


Perpetual

by tealeyedbeing



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Child Soldiers, Childhood Trauma, Dubious Morality, Enemies to Friends, Found Family, Freedom Fighter Zuko (Avatar), Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jet (Avatar) Lives, Jet (Avatar) Redemption, Jet (Avatar)-centric, Murder, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Resurrection, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 74,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28431999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealeyedbeing/pseuds/tealeyedbeing
Summary: The original idea: Zuko can't stay dead. He resurrects at sunrise, with old wounds becoming new scars. He's very bitter about it.What it actually became: Still that, but Jet took over and now it's his story to tell.(Updates on Wednesdays)FANART!!!!
Relationships: Jet & Longshot & Smellerbee, Jet & Longshot & Smellerbee & Zuko, Jet & Longshot (Avatar), Jet & Smellerbee (Avatar), Jet & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 231
Kudos: 268





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EudociaCovert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EudociaCovert/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Byroads](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3948466) by [EudociaCovert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EudociaCovert/pseuds/EudociaCovert). 



> First, I am posting this to give myself the ambition & responsibility to finish this, because at this moment, I have 7 chapters written, so by golly, I’m gonna do the Thing & finish this multichap bad boy. 
> 
> Second, as a head's up, Zuko does **NOT** go by Zuko in this fic. _At all._ I know that's semi-normal when it comes to Jet & co in Ba Sing Se with “Li/Lee” etc, but here I really mean it. So if that bothers you a lot, then I'd give this a pass. Otherwise, read on.
> 
> Third, another important thing to include would be [this detailed map of the atla world](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheLastAirbender/comments/6ry69q/atla_highly_detailed_map_of_the_world_of_avatar/) which also prompted some thoughts, primarily such as:  
> If Gaipan & Jet's forest were so close to the ferry waystation & Ba Sing Se all this time, why did it take him almost an entire season's worth of episodes to make it there for a fresh start? So I started writing the idea out combined with the "Zuko doesn't stay dead" idea & things summarily snowballed from there.  
> P.S. I'd also leave that map open in another tab because I reference it a bit & it might help you to actually see what I'm describing. 
> 
> Fourth would be a big inspiration shoutout, which has been linked & credited. EudociaCovert, The Best Path is a masterpiece & I hope I don't offend by hinting a few… references to that series. 
> 
> If you're still reading, or read this at all, I hope you enjoy.

There's an ashmaker too close to their camp.

Jet had promised Smellerbee and Longshot that they were starting over, but it's a long way to Ba Sing Se still and Jet's all too recent upset is still raw.

Koh damn the naïve Avatar and those self-righteous Water Tribe; they'd ruined everything. All his kids, who Jet had taken in, looked after and trained; abandoned him because they couldn't handle the harsh reality of war. Only two out of dozens had remained loyal. Jet can't fail them again, but neither truly understands how he feels.

There is no starting over, not when firebenders still breathe. They took everything from him, and Jet will never forgive or forget.

This ashmaker dares disguise himself in Earth Kingdom green, mixed with travel worn browns; a worse insult than a blatant soldier's armor. Jet doesn't care if this ashmaker's a spy, nor what Jet promised his remaining freedom fighters about going straight now.

If Smellerbee and Longshot were here, they'd understand and agree that all firebenders must die. Since they're not, Jet will do it without them, sparing them from at least one more death. 

The reconnaissance is over when the ashmaker has bedded down for the night next to the smoldering remains of his ill lit campfire- the proof Jet had needed to lay in wait, and now to act. Once he's gotten close enough on silent feet, Jet can see that the pulsing glow of embers matches the ashmaker's breathing. The view fills Jet with fury. Even asleep, firebenders can't control themselves.

It's so easy to line up the hooked head of his sword with a too pale throat, and _rip._

The reaction's immediate, of course. Those yellow eyes fly open as skin tears, red spurting and gurgling as the ashmaker rolls to his feet with strange steadiness. From the new position, with the faint glow of his campfire and the moon above combined, Jet can see that half the ashmaker's face (the side that'd been turned away from him) is just one big scar. 

Jet knew he'd cut a fatal wound, so he's startled by the calm way the ashmaker glares at him, fully lucid in spite of the gaping wound in his throat. He's not breathing; just bleeding all down his front. Unsettled, Jet lashes out again to sooner end that eerie stare. 

Only pure reflex saves Jet from his own shock when the ashmaker dodges the blow with alarming fluidity and then strikes back with an open palm. There's no fire, but the hit still lands with enough force on Jet's blocking wrist to flare sharp pain and send him staggering back a few steps.

"Monster," Jet hisses, regaining his balance and drawing his second tigerhead. It proves unnecessary just as quickly, however, because the blood loss has finally gotten to the unnatural ashmaker.

He sways forward drunkenly, trips and falls to his hands and knees. Blood soaks his front and bubbles from his mouth, breath now struggling in gurgling, thin wheezes.

Jet's wrist throbs fiercely, probably sprained, but he doesn't let his guard down again. He holds his twin hook swords steady, prepared to end the threat with a third blow that won't miss this time, but equally unwilling to strike too quickly and grant mercy to the monster. He waits until the fruitless struggles to breathe have fallen still and silent, until he's certain the ashmaker is just another curled up corpse on Earth Kingdom soil.

Jet leaves the body to rot unburied, stealing the pack that the ashmaker can no longer use.

When he returns to Smellerbee and Longshot, neither questions where the new supplies came from, nor why Jet splints his aching wrist and then starts to clean his swords. Before, they would have. Now, Jet's torn between gratitude for their knowing silence, and infuriated by their tentativeness. Jet never should be the one that they're wary of. They'll learn he's still right. It'll just take time.

The following day, Jet forcefully puts the eerie, scarred ashmaker out of his mind. He's got more important things to worry about than a dead man.

It's a pretty straight shot to Ba Sing Se, if Jet's placed their position on the newly acquired map right, but that's still a few days on foot through the forest that isn't as familiar the further they get from Gaipan and _their_ forest. They're avoiding the road and any main paths, following the river as far away from it as can be done without losing it, to travel undetected. 

The dead ashmaker's food meagerly pads theirs, and Jet had been furious to find an Earth Kingdom dagger swaddled in spare clothes. The latter will eventually be torn to strips when needed, because Jet refuses to let any of them wear a firebender's scraps. The dagger goes to Smellerbee, where it belongs better than with any ashmaker.

She's on first watch tonight, after a full day of near silent walking. Jet feels like he's scarcely fell asleep when he's woken by weight on his sore wrist. The pain opens his eyes, but realizing he's actually been pinned clears his vision almost instantly. 

A dead man's pale, scarred face sneers down at him, and in spite of himself, Jet freezes.

He hasn't had a nightmare about a kill in years, and the weight on his chest and throbbing wrist suggests that this isn't a dream. Jet didn't believe in spirits, but he hadn't thought the Avatar still existed either.

"I want my knife back," The dead ashmaker's spirit tells Jet in a raspy voice, and from the campfire's light, Jet can so clearly the ragged scar across his throat. "And then I have a question for you."

"Jet!" Smellerbee's alarmed voice cuts in, and Jet jerks.

He chokes when one of the spirit's hands comes down harshly on _his_ throat, heating threateningly as the ashmaker lifts his other hand full of fire to ward off Jet's fighters.

"Attack me and he dies first. Trust me," The spirit warns them without looking away from Jet at all. "I'll have plenty of time to do it."

The light makes the spirit appear ghastly, dried blood still caked down his front.

Jet hears the quiet sounds of Smellerbee and Longshot arming themselves, prepared to strike from a distance at his signal. Jet recalls the spirit’s threat, remembers how long the ashmaker had stood with a torn out throat before he fell over.

Can a spirit still be affected by steel?

Jet wets his lips, then whistles for his fighters to stand by. 

The spirit’s hand tightens warningly, but it doesn’t ignite or cut off Jet’s air. His free hand still burns.

Can spirits still bend?

They all wait anxiously for a long moment. When no one moves, the spirit extinguishes his fire.

“I want my knife back,” He repeats, yellow eyes still boring down at Jet alone. 

Unnerved, Jet whistles softly for Smellerbee to comply. She may not know the specifics, but there’s only one new knife she’s gotten. She throws it at the dirt next to Jet’s pinned body. Still without looking at her or Longshot, the spirit picks up the dagger and tucks it away beneath his bloodied shirt.

“Now, my question,” He says calmly, heedless of the weapons aimed at his head. “Why did you kill me?”

Jet curls his lip immediately. “You’re a firebender.”

“That’s all?” The spirit pressures, and it’s a struggle to remain still as Jet’s fury builds.

“It’s the only reason I need,” Jet spits.

“You’re a coward,” The ashmaker’s spirit retorts, equally sharp. “Attacking a man in his sleep is dishonorable.”

Jet barks a noise that could be a laugh and feels like he garbled broken glass. “What would you people know about honor?”

“I’m not a people,” The spirit snaps, but then he heaves a noisy sigh.

Do spirits still breathe?

“I did you no wrong,” He continues, quieter. “But I understand my people have. I know why you’d strike first.”

“You don’t know anything,” Jet seethes, straining up only to be pressed down harder.

“I don’t?” The spirit throws back, aggressively pointing at his half scorched face. “You think I survived this?”

Jet stills, thrown by the question. What? Jet hadn’t done that. The ashmaker’d had it before Jet killed him. 

Jet had killed him, but here the firebender knelt: warm, breathing, bending; still alive with a fully healed scar where Jet’s hook had ripped out his throat.

“Jet?” Smellerbee pipes up cautiously into the lull of silence, still waiting on his signal to remove the threat.

Jet ignores her. “You died.”

The not-spirit, not dead boy smirks a twisted thing of sardonic amusement. “I die all the time. It never sticks.”

He doesn’t die. That’s why he doesn’t care that Longshot has an arrow pointed at his head. It’s why he memorized how Jet looked while he was bleeding out. He doesn’t stay dead.

“How?”

The scarred ashmaker shrugs off Jet’s question. “I’m gonna let you up now. If your followers kill me, it just means I’ll be back tomorrow, so let’s not waste all our time, yeah?”

True to his word, the firebender releases Jet and stands. Movement at the corner of his eye has Jet whistling a sharp command to stand _down_. Smellerbee pulls up short, glaring in offended disbelief. Jet shakes his head firmly, climbing to his feet. As much as he hates agreeing with an ashmaker, the guy’s right. There’s no point in killing him. He’ll just come back again, probably even angrier.

“Jet, what is going on?” Smellerbee demands, still holding her aggressive posture because the stranger hasn’t left.

Why hasn’t he left yet?

“He’s a firebender,” Jet begins, because that’s where it always starts. “I killed him last night and took his stuff.”

“Hurt like a bitch, too,” The ashmaker adds dryly, rubbing his throat and eyeing Jet’s tigerheads with mingled distaste and interest. “I’ve never seen swords like those.”

“There a reason you’re still here?” Jet gripes, wanting the firebender _gone_ if he won’t stay dead.

“I want my stuff back,” The scarred boy retorts, plucking at his bloodied clothing purposefully.

Jet waves a hand at the pack in question, impatient. “Then take it and go already.”

“Wait,” Smellerbee interjects, stepping pointedly in the way. “If Jet killed you, then aren’t you a spirit?”

“Spirit-cursed, more like,” The ashmaker mutters, crossing his arms. “I’m alive enough to keep dying; it just never stays that way.”

“That’s impossible,” Smellerbee states.

Jet notices that Longshot has lowered his bow.

“Stick another knife in me,” The not-dead-stranger invites mockingly. “I’ll catch up with you again tomorrow.”

Smellerbee’s mouth pinches. She looks to Jet for answers, but he doesn’t have any more to offer.

“It doesn’t matter,” The firebender continues into the absence of response. “Just give me back my stuff and we’ll never see each other again.”

“You should stay with us,” Longshot says, startling them all with his quiet voice, the certainty of the most unexpected words.

Knowing Longshot the least, the scarred ashmaker recovers first with a scowl. “Why would I stay with someone who murdered me in my sleep?”

Smellerbee’s mouth opens angrily, then noticeably closes without a sound.

Jet’s temper builds as he looks between his remaining kids, frustrated by their reactions. 

Smellerbee’s lost faith in him, confronted by the undeniable proof standing in front of her. The village flooded, but no one had died. Jet murdered someone in his sleep, but _he_ came back to life, tracked them, and demanded his stuff back. She doesn’t trust Jet to _stop_ anymore, even concerning an ashmaker.

On the other side, why would Longshot suggest such a thing? Travel with an ashmaker? After all that they’ve done? What could he be thinking?

Longshot stares back calmly in the face of Jet’s glare, saying nothing further. In that moment, Jet hates that he understands the archer so well. He doesn’t want to hear it. Keeping around a firebender that Jet can’t kill isn’t going to help anyone or anything, no matter what Longshot thinks.

“I don’t know what the fuck is happening here,” The ashmaker interjects into the silent debate. “But I’m not staying. Move.”

Smellerbee stiffens at the order and Jet inserts himself between her and the firebender at once. All frustration aside, Jet is never going to put one of his kids in a position he wouldn’t go himself.

The deathless boy rolls his eyes at yet another obstacle between him and his pack. “I’m not gonna hurt her. I didn’t even hurt _you_.”

Jet’s wrist disagrees, but he got up unburnt from under a firebender’s hand. Why?

“Why not?” Jet asks, unwillingly starting to maybe see what Longshot must’ve already seen to suggest staying together.

“You were doing what you thought you had to, and they,” The ashmaker nods at Jet’s fighters. “Have still done me no wrong.”

“It’s that easy to forgive someone who killed you?” Jet sneers, and the ashmaker bristles.

“Who said I forgive you, asshole? You’re still a coward. Just because I don’t stay dead doesn’t erase the fact you murdered me in cold blood.”

“You said you understood why he did it,” Smellerbee points out crossly.

The firebender throws up his arms heatedly, but without any actual heat. “Understood, not agreed! Who _wants_ to die?!”

“Lots of people,” Jet answers without thinking, watching yellow eyes snap to him. “When there’s nothing left to live for, because everything you had burned to ash.”

Jet wishes he didn’t see it, but he’d have to be blind to miss the way the firebender just as quickly averts his eyes. Jet hates the realization that an ashmaker knows what it’s like to lose everything.

He sighs heavily.

Longshot never speaks unless it’s important. He hadn’t spoken against flooding Gaipan. It’d been his arrow that blew the dam. He’s not so willing to be unheard anymore. He and Smellerbee want to start over. Jet had promised that they would, then murdered a firebender in his sleep at the first opportunity- a firebender who wouldn’t burn Jet even when it’d be _understandable_ to do so.

Where is the line?

“We’re going to Ba Sing Se,” Smellerbee tells the quiet firebender, because she evidently sides with Longshot after Jet has given off undecided signals.

The firebender refocuses, arching his single remaining brow dubiously. “So? I don’t care. I’m not going with you.”

“I think you should,” Jet forces himself to speak, because he has to find the line.

“What? _You_ were the one who killed me! Why are you suddenly for this?” The ashmaker protests incredulously. “Are you all just ignoring me? I Don’t Want To Go.”

As said, Jet ignores each pointedly pronounced word. “How often do you die?”

The firebender clenches his jaw hard enough to make a muscle in his cheek jump, evidently unhappy to have his earlier taunt thrown back at him like this.

“How much is it because you’re alone?” Jet pressures, because if he’s doing this, he’ll do it all the way. “How many were the Earth Kingdom? How many-”

“Enough.” The scarred, deathless boy bares his teeth in an irate hiss. “Just make your damn point already.”

Jet would, but he’s not even wholly sure what _is_ the point. He still doesn’t want an ashmaker around, but… maybe he _needs_ someone to check him.

Smellerbee doesn’t trust him, but she still followed Jet and obeyed his orders. Longshot shadowed him still, but he isn’t loud enough to drown out Jet’s worst impulses. They can’t stop him. He doesn’t know if they even know how.

This ashmaker, however, _can't_ be put down. _He_ won’t let Jet run around unaccounted, as proven.

Is that what Longshot and Smellerbee want? Someone who knows how, with the ability to knock Jet down? 

He hates the very idea. He feels betrayed, and he hates knowing that he betrayed them first.

Jet feels sick. 

He’s been quiet for too long, and the firebender dismisses him accordingly. Jet’s unused to not knowing what to say. He’s used to people hanging off his words. He _hates_ this.

“Why do _you_ want me to hang around? This was your idea.” The black haired, pale skinned boy demanded of the other, accusing Longshot.

A part of Jet meanly expects Longshot to break his silence again, but the archer holds his tongue. Jet can’t stand to look at him right now to see what he might be saying with his eyes.

“We think it’d be good for us,” Smellerbee answers for them both, rather than divulge that Longshot doesn't really speak ordinarily. 

“For _you_ _?”_ The firebender repeats scathingly, scoffing derisively. “Is that supposed to convince me?”

“You didn’t answer Jet’s questions,” Smellerbee shoots back without missing a beat. “We can watch your back.”

“Who’s going to watch my back from _you?”_ The ashmaker retorts. “You guys are the ones who-”

“There’s no point, right?” Jet interrupts, quieter than intended but still capturing attention easily. “You said it yourself. It’d be a waste of time, and now we all know it. We’re trying to start over. Go straight.”

“And? What, you want me to- to hold you in check? Is that what this is about?” The deathless boy speculates incredulously, cutting Jet when he lands the blow with painful accuracy. “That’s _it?_ ” He concludes correctly when Jet noticeably doesn’t deny it. 

The ashmaker looks between all three of them, looking for something they either can’t give him or don’t even know how. He runs a hand over his tousled hair, sweeping back long black strands that’d escaped his high tail. It looks matted in some parts, probably because of the blood. He hadn’t stopped to clean up properly.

Jet doesn’t know what to do with these observations.

“Fine. You know what? I’ve had worse ideas,” The firebender mutters, dropping his hand back to his side. “But I’m not going to Ba Sing Se without a good forgery. The Earth army tortures firebenders they capture.”

Jet very nearly snaps that it’s what all ashmakers deserve, but the scar on _this_ ashmaker’s throat holds his tongue. As a murderer, it’d be the height of hypocrisy to defend torture to the one he’d murdered.

“Okay,” Smellerbee says slowly, clearly not liking what was said either. “We need some too, then. We don’t have any.”

They didn’t know they needed any. Already, the firebender is proving his worth.

Jet itches to hit something, badly.

“We can handle that later,” The firebender decides, like he’s taking charge without needing to think about it. “First, I wanna wash up and then sleep. Can I _please_ get my bag now?”

Jet turns away stiffly and then pointedly does not pick up his tigerheads. He doesn’t trust himself not to hack them all out of shape right now, with no whetstone to fix the mistakes of his temper.

Smellerbee steps to Longshot’s side, and the ashmaker _finally_ gets to kneel by his pack and roots through it. 

Jet should get a name at some point, if he could stomach one more concession tonight.

It occurs to him while watching the deathless boy walk away, towards the river, that he trusts them to still be here when he returns. Why wouldn’t he, another part of Jet’s brain points out, _they're_ the ones who want him to stay. It’s more likely the firebender will take the unobserved opportunity to keep walking, and not come back. He did take his pack with him, after all.

Jet decides not to mention his thoughts aloud. He still doesn’t _want_ the ashmaker around, even _if_ he might need it. If the guy doesn’t return, everything will be easier. They can find out how to get papers for Ba Sing Se on their own.

Jet’s wrist throbs in reminder, a parting gift from the scarred boy twice over. He sits down, unwraps it, and splints it again more firmly. Smellerbee sits next to him to wordlessly help him pull the ties tight, while Longshot remains standing and watchful. The long day’s exhaustion pulls at Jet, but he doubts he’ll be able to close his eyes again tonight. He doesn’t want to open them again and find that the should-be-dead boy has gotten the better of him once more.

The ashmaker doesn’t return for a long while; long enough that Jet hopes he won’t at all, and long enough for Smellerbee to suggest they go back to sleeping in shifts. It’s still within her watch, but Jet takes over curtly. He won’t be sleeping anyway. Smellerbee eyes him warily, forcing Jet to bite his tongue not to snap at her for her blatant doubt.

What does she expect him to do? Murder their “guest” again? It’d be pointless and Jet hates wasting time.

Smellerbee and Longshot settle in their bedrolls to rest, leaving Jet to stare in the direction of the river, wishing he had a whetstone for his swords. The routine always helped him think.

He’s lost everything twice over, and he’s still expected to start over again. When Jet refused, the lesson literally revived and held him down by the throat, practically saying, _"Try again."_

What’re the chances that he’d stumble across the one ashmaker who won’t stay dead, mere days after the Avatar revealed that he still lives? It’s unlikely that Jet will ever see a more likely example of spiritual intervention. The World Spirit had decried Jet’s choices. The first firebender he finds after that is spirit-cursed to resurrect seemingly endlessly. The message is blatant. 

Worst of all, rather than take revenge for his murder, the firebender showed mercy and spared Jet’s life. How is Jet supposed to feel anything other than hate for that choice? His life indebted to an ashmaker?

The two kids he’d thought remained loyal to him actually thought Jet needed to be held in check by someone stronger than themselves, someone who can outlive Jet’s mistakes. Jet agreed, because he doesn’t know if he could survive losing them too. He wouldn’t want to. If the price to keep his kids is to also keep around a deathless firebender, then Jet will grind his teeth and concede to be checked. 

Maybe they’re even right. They’re too used to following without question, and Jet’s too used to being unquestioned. He crossed the line. He knows this, but he can barely see it.

All those kids that he took in, sheltered and trained to survive, abandoned him for just one bad call. Were they weak willed, naïve children or had Sokka been right? Has Jet forgotten what he fought for? Why do Smellerbee and Longshot think that an ashmaker will help Jet remember?

He’d been right. He’d been wrong. He knows how far to go. He needs to be checked.

The conflict runs in circles and Jet despises it. Things had been so much clearer before. There was only one way forward. 

Now? 

The firebender finally returns before Jet has an answer.

“What took you so long?” He demands, quiet enough not to needlessly wake his fighters. He needs to know if this ashmaker is an active threat.

“My clothes were soaked with blood,” The scarred teen answers waspishly, but just as quiet as he sets down his pack. He’s changed to clean clothes, and lays out the wet, likely cleaned set to dry out on the grass adjacent to what's left of the campfire. His long dark hair is still damp and has been left loose.

It looks like a weird, unwise choice of luxury for someone living with the barest amount of supplies. It’d be stupidly easy to grab him by that long hair, use it to hurt him.

Jet keeps it in mind, just in case.

“What’s your name anyway?” He forces himself to ask, just to get it out of the way.

The ashmaker came back, which means he’s actually going to stick around. He needs to be called something. However, Jet doesn’t get a definite answer. Instead, the boy shrugs.

“Doesn’t matter. Call me whatever you want. If it’s stupid though, I’ll ignore it.”

“How does your name not matter?” Jet pressures.

Sure, _they_ changed their names, but only because the lives that those names belonged to were nonexistent now. With a jolt, Jet realizes too late that this deathless boy- or rather, death-plagued boy probably understood that sentiment far better than them. 

Jet doesn’t want these realizations of their similarities. 

“Never mind, I don’t care,” Jet declares before the firebender can confirm that unwanted observation. 

The ashmaker snorts softly, and Jet digs his nails into his palms in an attempt not to leap up and punch the other teen in his stupid, distinct face. 

“I’m going to sleep, because I assume you don’t trust me to keep watch,” The firebender states, sitting down and then reclining so his head rests on his pack like a pillow.

He’s right, and Jet won’t be telling him such. He’s angry enough as it is already.

“I assumed you didn’t trust _me_ to keep watch.” Jet can’t help but snidely echo the ashmaker’s words back at him.

“I don’t, but I rise at dawn, no matter what you'd do,” The firebender says with his eyes closed, infuriatingly dismissing Jet as a threat. “Besides, _you_ said it was a waste of time. Change your mind?”

Jet doesn’t dignify that with a response, and the scarred teen doesn’t seem to expect one. Unfortunately, he’s right again.

Rise at dawn? Is that when he revives? That’s useful information. Kill him in the morning, and they’d have a full day to get ahead of him before he gets up to follow. Jet’s learned from that mistake already and won’t stick around to be found so easily twice.

He can hear the firebender breathing, and such a simple, inescapable aspect of life infuriates Jet beyond reason. The ashmaker’s either stupid or suicidal to so easily fall asleep next to his own killer. 

Why wouldn’t he, Jet’s brain parrots back a second time, he doesn’t stay dead; he’s not afraid of you, you as good as admitted that you won’t waste time killing him twice. Maybe the firebender doesn’t want to die, but he doesn’t fear death. It’d be hard to, if it never sticks and he dies as often as implied.

What’s the point? Why did an ashmaker get every chance to live again when no one else did? What made _him_ so special? Cursed or blessed, it’s equally unfair: undeserved, unwarranted, and even seemingly unwanted by the boy himself.

Jet’s mind refuses to rest, well after exhaustion weighs heavily on his eyelids, hours after the firebender forcefully inserted himself into their lives, and they somehow ended up inviting him to stay there. Jet knows it’s stupid to push himself, to be sloppy and sluggish tomorrow, but he doesn’t know how to sleep. Still, he wakes Longshot to take over watch. He has to try.

Despite being the indirect source of his newfound turmoil, Jet trusts that Longshot will guard the stranger in their midst. Longshot is loyal.

Jet closes his eyes and _tries_ to stop thinking. It’s all circular and contradictory anyway. Pointless. He’s already committed to a decision. He has to live with it.

He falls asleep at some point, as impossible as it’d seemed and as restless as it feels to wake up. 

Jet wakes up, still breathing, after sleeping next to an ashmaker. Everything feels… misplaced. Shifted to the left when he hadn’t been looking. 

No one woke him. At this realization, Jet sits up sharply.

“Hey,” Smellerbee greets, stirring breakfast over the restoked campfire. 

Longshot nods as well. They’re both alive and unharmed. Jet doesn’t relax.

“Where is he?”

Longshot looks aside in indication, and Jet gets up to see from the archer’s perspective.

A short walk from the camp, the firebender sits cross legged with his scarred side facing them. There’s fire cupped in his hands. Jet’s pulse kicks up an angry notch. It looks controlled, as in nothing’s been burned, but he hates to see the guy just firebending like it’s natural.

Benders have to bend like they need to breathe. Firebenders burn. This one hasn’t yet. This one has been burned.

Jet doesn’t look away.

“He’s been like that since I woke up,” Smellerbee offers into the silent tension. “He said it was meditation.”

Looking closer, Jet can see the held flame flare and wane in consistent pulses, like a pattern- like breathing.

He looks away.

Smellerbee passes out bowls of barely flavored jook and the firebender eventually joins them of his own volition. He doesn’t help himself to what’s left in the pot. Is he waiting for an invitation, or one of them to serve him? What food he’d had had merged with theirs yesterday, so he can’t have already eaten on his own.

Without asking or telling, Longshot bluntly forces the cooled pot into the surprised firebender’s hands. Jet would’ve let him starve.

“Uh, thanks?” The ashmaker offers awkwardly, resting the pot on his knees when Smellerbee next gives him a spoon.

The two of them _would_ want to keep their new pet ashmaker alive. All the better to keep Jet in check.

Jet forces his fingers to loosen before he cracks the bowl. He focuses on Smellerbee asking for the firebender’s name, only to receive the same answer as Jet had last night.

“That’s Jet,” She introduces them instead. “Longshot. I’m Smellerbee.”

The ashmaker pauses with the spoon in his mouth, bemused by their names. Jet wants to hit him so the spoon’s forced down his throat. The spirit-cursed bender swallows and removes the spoon.

“Alright. Those won’t really work on passports, but to each their own.” 

He doesn’t seem judgmental, but Jet can’t see how it’s not. Smellerbee’s scowl seems to think the same.

“It’s our names.”

“I didn’t say otherwise,” The firebender replies, unaffected by the collective tension, or at least pretending to be. “I’m just saying to be prepared to have other names, or any papers we get will definitely be flagged as fake.”

Jet hates him more every time he makes a valid point.

“Then you need a name, too,” He says sharply.

“Try Lee,” The firebender offers nonchalantly, truly uncaring. “There’s a million Lees.”

“No,” Smellerbee rejects flatly. “You’ll be… Sho.”

Jet jerks, distinctly enough that everyone looks at him in alarm.

“Jet?” Smellerbee inquires quietly, but Jet shakes his head.

She doesn’t know, and the name’s not right anyway, just… too close for comfort. He’s never told anyone what he’d discarded and left behind with the rest of the ash. It’s just a coincidence that doesn’t mean anything.

Smellerbee drops it on his command, and Longshot had eased when it wasn’t an injury. The ashmaker lingers longer, as if he expects Jet to forbid taking on the offered name. Jet gives him nothing.

“Okay,” The death-plagued teen says slowly, accepting. “I’ll be Sho.”

It’s done then. The ashmaker has a name. Another, again, most probably, but the only one Jet has ever known from the dozens he’s killed over the years. That’s… something. Jet refuses to consider _what_ any further.

“Gaipan is nearby,” Sho says next, missing the immediate reaction to what he just said, distracted by scraping the pot clean. “We can get-”

“Gaipan’s gone. Flooded,” Jet interrupts icily, stiff as the ashmaker glances up in surprise. “We can’t go back there.”

Sho’s brow furrows, looking between Smellerbee and Longshot, but neither will meet his eyes.

“When you say that…” Sho starts, now looking at Jet askance.

Jet’s on his feet before he’s conscious of the choice.

“We blew the dam. It was my plan and my call.” He forces the words through his teeth, wishing inanely for a familiar stalk of wheat grass to ease the grinding.

Sho sets the pot aside without glancing away from Jet. The other two won’t lift their eyes off the ground. Suddenly, Jet hates them with an alarming burst of annoyance for their cowardice. He takes the blame and they do nothing.

“How many casualties?” Sho asks, raspy voice steady, jerking Jet’s eyes back to him.

When had he looked away?

“None.” Now Smellerbee speaks up, for the so-called good news. “The town evacuated before it flooded. The Fire Nation soldiers survived. They’ll arrest or kill us if we go back.”

“They should’ve died!” Jet bursts out, unable to hold it in any longer. “We would’ve cleared the valley of those leeches!”

“Should’ve, would’ve,” Sho says, seemingly nonsensically. “Could’ve, might’ve. What’s the difference? What matters is what _did_ happen. No one died.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jet spits.

Is that approval, from an ashmaker? Jet doesn’t know if he could tolerate that any more than disapproval.

Sho also stands, shorter than Jet by just barely.

“You would’ve killed civilians, but you didn’t. That’s what it means,” He states flatly. “You killed me because I’m a firebender, no other reason.”

“What’s your point?” Jet demands impatiently. The last thing he wants is a lecture from an ashmaker. The only reason he hasn’t attacked yet is knowing how pointless it’d be.

Sho will outlive him, every time.

“You’re not irredeemable,” Sho declares, yellow eyes intent. “You don’t kill or destroy because it’s fun. You think it’s necessary. You can come back from that.”

“Shut up. Right now,” Jet hisses. He wants blood.

“No,” Sho rejects him unflinchingly. “Why else am I here? For them?”

Smellerbee flinches slightly at Sho’s gesture. Longshot is watching carefully from beneath his hat.

“You don’t want me here. I get that,” Sho continues, driving the nails deeper under Jet’s skin. “But you need to be checked. You’re _trying_ to change-”

“Shut up!” Jet roars, lunging forwards. 

He collides with Sho in a grapple, swiftly unbalanced by his recklessly blind, bare handed charge. The ground drives the air out of him before Jet realizes how it happened. Snarling and spitting, he struggles ferociously but Sho seems to be everywhere, pinning down every joint with unerring timing. Jet has _never_ felt so outmatched in his life. He’s so unbelievably angry.

“Stop,” Sho barks, ripping Jet’s face out of the dirt with a hand rough in Jet’s hair. “Look at them, Jet.”

Jet must, unable to resist. Longshot has an arrow nocked, but not loosed. Smellerbee is coiled with her favorite dagger poised, but she too does nothing but watch. Jet’s fury burns in his throat. Traitors. How dare they?! After everything he did for them?

“You’re not looking,” Sho snaps, yanking harder. “ _Look_ at your people, Jet! Do you think those weapons are pointed at _you?”_

Furiously blinking back tears born from his stinging scalp, Jet looks at his freedom fighters.

Both of them are watching Sho with ruthless intensity, waiting for the exact moment best to strike. Exactly as Jet taught them. 

The infuriated strength starts to ebb from his limbs.

“You see?” Sho prompts, loosening his grip to ease the strain on Jet’s neck. “They don’t trust me either. They don’t want me here, but you _all_ need it.”

Neither of Jet’s fighters falter at Sho’s proclamation, but Jet knows his kids. How had he missed it? How had he thought that they wanted an ashmaker around any more than he did? They hate it too. They’re trying to find their way back to the line as well, having followed Jet across it without hesitation. He had done that to them.

Jet goes limp with shame, and Sho lets him go. As soon as Sho backs off, Smellerbee races forward to cover Jet. Out of the corner of his blurry vision, he can see Longshot’s arrow still tracking Sho’s path away.

“You can find your way back.” Sho’s voice sounds father away than it should be, addressing all of them with this reiteration. “You just need a few reminders.”

Smellerbee covers Jet’s weakness, and Longshot covers for them both.

For the first time since he was eight years old, Jet lets himself cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Sho means Commander, General and is of Japanese origin. It is also a shameless tribute to EudociaCovert & The Best Path. Readers of the series will catch when I reference it. It also just fits Zuko- his past & maybe his new future as well...
> 
> Tags will be added as chapters are. (Mention it if you think one should be that hasn't been.) Any spelling corrections, errors, etc are welcome to be pointed out & will be corrected.
> 
> Also yes, for the record, Jet is meant to be repeating himself that often & for awhile longer. Trust me, my brain was kicking me the entire time saying "you said that already!" It has a reason.
> 
> (Atla canon tried to tell me that all that time had passed, and Jet had barely changed his mindset at all. Doubt™)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [here's the map again for reference](https://external-preview.redd.it/D6COo3YmmcBYv5zwCHMdZO4kUjpczWZjNc-Td7cHH20.jpg?auto=webp&s=96e43204a9d64cee57ed9b0acda8f2e05106c180)

“Well, if we can’t go to Gaipan,” Sho thinks aloud, appraising the map after… just after. “The next place we can find papers is probably going to be a settlement skirting the Si Wong Desert, maybe.” 

He taps the big open patch of tan colored parchment on the map, and Jet’s too drained to feel anything other than acknowledgement for the suggestion.

“I know the ferry waystation is here,” Sho continues, tapping at where the river flows into Full Moon Bay. “I’d say we’re about… here.” He taps a spot just to the left of an illustrated mountain bordering the bay. 

They’re that close, but as Sho had said: no papers, no passage. Getting all the way there only to be turned away would’ve sucked. So, via Sho’s suggestion, they need to cross the river and head south.

“Without the dam, the next place to cross is still the waystation,” Sho plans ahead just as a statement of fact. “Which we’re closer to anyway. We might be able to resupply some and maybe ask someone where their papers came from.”

A firebender taking charge of them grates, but Jet’s reluctantly conceded to some irrefutable facts. Sho’s had Jet at his clear mercy twice now, and released him unharmed both times. He’s had his chances, and he didn’t take them. That means something, as much as Jet rankles to admit it. 

Plus, it’s obvious that Sho’s well traveled. He simply knows which routes are safer to take. Well, mostly. Jet prompts the thought aloud.

“Anywhere we should avoid for you?”

At Sho’s mildly confused look, Jet elaborates. “Crimes? People who think you’re dead?”

“Oh.” Sho blinks, reconsidering the map. “Uh, yeah. A few places actually, but nowhere really near here. So far. It should be fine.”

“Where’re you from anyway?” Smellerbee inquires, making an attempt to be curious.

“The Fire Nation. I mean that literally,” Sho clarifies before anyone can point out how obvious that answer is. “I was born on the mainland- ours, I mean. The homeland. The core islands.” 

It’s a sign of something else raw and new that Jet’s almost amused by the awkward rambling. Good to know that Sho can still act like a teenager on top of his spirit-cursed intensity. The latter had started to get tiresome.

“Okay. Why’d you leave?” Smellerbee prompts.

“I died,” Sho answers dryly. “There was a funeral. No one would believe I was who I said I was. Things got bad. I left. Been heading east ever since, pretty much.”

It’s plenty obvious that he’s leaving a ton out on purpose, but Jet grudgingly supposes what Sho had said is all that really matters. Who he used to be had died. Given Jet’s own initial reaction had been to think Sho had returned as a vengeful spirit, Jet can understand why people wouldn’t believe their kid was back from the dead.

Longshot brings up a very interesting question. Jet wants to know the answer but Sho misses the inquiry entirely. Oh, right.

“Longshot asked, don’t firebenders cremate their dead?”

“He did?” Sho questions dubiously, looking between them. “But yeah, we do, and no, I don’t know how that works. I’m dead by that point, but I still wake up again. I’ve lost a lot of clothes that way.”

Jet sits back, morbidly impressed. Not even cremation can stop the resurrection? That’s some kind of powerful spiritual work. He almost wants to see it happen, but that’d defeat the whole point of joining together. 

Sho’s here to keep them in check, and they’re here to keep Sho from dying so often. How frequent is ‘all the time’ anyway?

“My record for going without is three months,” Sho answers when Jet poses the question to him. “Before you, I was going on four weeks. It’s gotten better.”

It sounds fucking awful.

“What kind of luck do you have?” Jet wonders incredulously.

“The worst,” Sho replies flatly, with an absolute belief in that certainty.

-

The waystation is the most crowded place Jet has seen in a very long time, and they’re not even near the dock. There’s a smattering of merchants hawking their wares to the refugees, opportunistic and scummy enough that Sho has to shove Jet away from smashing some stalls.

“You’re going to get us arrested. Chill the fuck out,” Sho hisses, not backing down when Jet snarls at him for getting in the way. “Where did you think the supplies were going to come from? We have to come back here. Don’t get us blacklisted from the ferry.”

Jet seethes. There wouldn’t be this many refugees fleeing to the Earth Kingdom’s last greatest stronghold if it weren’t for the Fire Nation. Just that morning, Sho had confessed to being born on their homeland. He’s one of _them_.

“Calm. Down.” Sho warns, low and threatening as Jet’s hands latch onto his sword hilts. “I’m not the one who forced all these people from their homes. I was forced from _my_ home when I was _nine_. Think, Jet.”

In spite of himself, Jet does falter. Sho died as far back as nine years old? If that’s true, then… he couldn’t have been part of any military force that burned and slaughtered. (Sho wouldn’t even burn the person who’d killed him.)

An old reflex twitches feebly, trying to claim Sho as a war child. Jet shoves it down harshly before it can latch on. Sho is _not_ one of _his_.

Still, Jet takes his hands off his swords. His wrist probably wouldn’t tolerate combat just yet anyway.

Sho nods tightly. He’s been acting stiffly and on edge ever since they found the tunnels that led to the waystation, and has barely relaxed at all now that the cavern system has opened up to a high natural ceiling and out to the bay. He probably just hates being surrounded by so much Earth.

“Longshot and I will handle the shopping. You and Smellerbee ask around for anyone who knows where to get passports. _Don’t_ start a fight.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Jet growls, not nearly calm enough to accept Sho being bossy.

“Then stop being an idiot and come up with a better idea,” Sho snaps back and Jet hates the loss of control over his own life. 

“We’re not separating,” Jet decides stonily.

“Fine,” Sho acquiesces with an audible snap of his teeth.

It doesn’t feel like a victory.

Unfortunately, even when they stick together, it quickly ends up being essentially as Sho had suggested. 

Jet excels at talking to people, but he doesn’t know what supplies are worth how much. Sho haggles like he’s trying to verbally wring the merchants’ pockets, but he clams up to single syllables when a passing kid rudely asked where he got _that_ scar. Longshot is as quiet as ever, a somewhat intimidating presence at Sho’s shoulder, distracting the sleazy merchants. Smellerbee ends up being the one who gets the information they need, after she kicks a thief in the gut and the thankful owner of the returned stolen goods happily answers her questions.

“Sandbenders,” Sho mutters once he’s stopped badgering the merchants and Smellerbee has shared the information. “I should’ve guessed as much.”

“What’s wrong with sandbenders?” Smellerbee asks, crossing her arms. “They take refugees across the desert.”

“And some tribes run a slave trade by kidnapping refugees,” Sho retorts, scowling heatedly at their map.

Jet grinds his teeth. “So the info’s no good?”

Sho sighs. “It’s good. We just need to be careful that we find the right tribe. Did you get any specific names?”

Smellerbee shakes her head. “Just that they went by Hami.”

“Might be a tribe,” Sho speculates, then shifts. “Hold this side, will you?”

Longshot takes one side of the map so Sho has a hand free to point. He traces a path on the paper while he speaks.

“Once we get through the forest, our best bet is to stay on the fringe of the desert. Sandbenders are nomadic, but everyone needs water and trade, and on the fringe is where they’ll find it.”

Jet jams a hand forwards. “What’re these?”

“That’s the Si Wong Rock, or the Mesa Tower,” Sho answers. “I’ve heard it’s a buzzard-hornet nest. The other tower is Wan Shi’Tong’s library. He’s a spirit.”

Neither of which are helpful, though the latter sounds interesting if dangerous. Jet wishes he had something to chew on.

“Are we cutting through this mountain pass?” He points at the map to indicate where he means.

“The pass might not be clear, but if it is, it’d be faster.” Sho muses. “It’s ultimately up to you guys on what’s the lesser risk. The pass, or backtrack to go around.”

“The pass,” Jet decides at once. “We can’t be seen doubling back. What if someone from Gaipan is also heading here?”

“Your call,” Sho agrees simply, taking the map corner back from Longshot to roll it up. “We should rest here for the night, head out in the morning. Maybe we’ll hear of another option by then. There’s still some things I wanna try and find too.”

Jet, who’d started to feel mollified by Sho’s concessions, is rankled again. “With whose money?”

“Mine,” Sho snipes. “I remember how much I had before it went into your pocket.”

Jet scowls but he’s forced to let that one go. At the absence of further protest, Longshot allows Sho to fish out a few silvers from the coin pouch.

“Are you coming or shall I meet you guys somewhere later?” Sho asks, already half turned away.

Since his earlier concern had been leaving Longshot alone with a firebender, Jet opens his mouth to let Sho wander off on his own. He grunts instead when Smellerbee elbows him in the ribs with a pointed look. Oh, right. Keeping Sho alive is part of the deal, just as much as either of his kids.

Jet grimaces. No, definitely not that much, but at least more than he’d care about total strangers.

“You guys have too many silent conversations,” Sho states, sort of dryly amused but mostly impatient.

Jet heaves a sigh. “We stick together. Lead the way.”

Sho does.

It turns out the things Sho was looking for is a pair of swords. He wins them off a port guard by proving he can wield them better in a rigged bet, and even snags extra coins from the small crowd that’d gathered to watch and join in on the betting pool.

“Where’d you learn that?” Jet demands, torn between being impressed and being threatened that Sho just became more dangerous.

“I had lessons as a kid, but self-taught from there,” Sho admits, tipping his earnings into the coin pouch. The spar seems to have relaxed him from most of the tension he’s been carrying around since they got here.

“If you could use them that well, then why did you only have a dagger?” Smellerbee questions.

“People loot swords off my corpse. A dagger is easier to conceal,” Sho responds, as flat as every time he mentions his deaths. “Sometimes I can’t find the people who killed me to get my stuff back. Consider this an investment.”

In a move that’s downright impressively self aware of his own slow growth, Jet checks that he won’t be overheard before he asks his question.

“I thought firebenders didn’t use weapons.”

Sho jolts a little, but calms when he realizes no one’s close enough to eavesdrop. He shrugs. “I’m not a good firebender.”

Jet probably should’ve guessed as much just by looking at the guy’s face. It helps a little, knowing that Sho’s a self-proclaimed shitty bender. What’s become more concerning is the melee possibilities. Sho fought _really_ well dual wielding.

Jet wants a spar just to prove that if it came down to it, he could beat Sho one on one. A voice that sounds like Smellerbee reminds Jet that not killing each other is the point of sticking together. With a hidden grimace, Jet decides he’d rather eat then think.

-

Eventually, Jet knows they’re going to have to work Sho into the watch rotation, but they haven’t reached that point yet. Sho offered, but hadn’t insisted when rejected. Jet sort of gets the feeling that Sho’s taking advantage of their mistrust to get a solid night’s rest. It’s weirdly contradictive of him, but he’s not exactly wrong. None of them will kill in his sleep (again).

Jet’s the last one on watch this morning and so he has the perfect view to watch as Sho quite literally rises with the sun. He’d thought Sho meant just reviving at sunrise, but no, he actually wakes up exactly at dawn.

His long hair is a tangled mess and his good eye is a narrow squint to match his scarred side. He looks like every other grumpy teenager to wake up too early.

“You do this everyday?” Jet asks, partly curious but also consciously making an effort to be… friendlier. Ugh.

“Rain or shine,” Sho confirms with a mumble, rubbing his eyes with slightly more care over his scar. “It’s a firebender thing. We feel the sun. Makes it hard to sleep through.”

Jet hadn’t asked to learn that much, but it’s potentially useful information; maybe for surveillance time constraints or something.

Sho doesn’t share any more ashmaker habits, too distracted with combing knots out of his hair and then wrapping it up in a bun with a tie.

“Why don’t you cut it?” Jet half suggests, half wonders.

Sho pauses, clueless until realization dawns, but then pauses again. “I like it long,” He decides on simplicity.

Must be a Fire Nation thing, Jet supposes, not as darkly as he would’ve thought just three days ago. It seems a ridiculous waste of time to get worked up over hair, in either direction. If Sho likes it long for Fire Nation reasons, it really doesn’t affect Jet to care or not.

“Do I need a chaperone to go find breakfast?” Sho asks, groaning pleasantly as he stretches up onto his toes.

Jet doesn’t appreciate the remark, but Sho did fairly earn his own money yesterday. He pulls out the coin pouch.

Sho frowns at the coins Jet passes him. “You don’t want me to get you anything?”

“You were offering?” Jet counters, since he had just parted out enough to buy one meal.

“Yeah?” Sho returns like it should’ve been obvious.

Jet considers it. Might as well start extending a little trust at a time. He gives Sho enough money for three more meals.

Smellerbee and Longshot are still asleep when Sho returns to their camped out corner of the underground shipyard. He’s expertly balancing two bowls on each arm, which are still steaming from wherever he got them. Jet wakes his fighters early, because a hot meal isn’t something easily passed over. Sure enough, Smellerbee’s complaints trail off quickly once Sho sets the bowl of hot-and-dry noodles into her hands.

It’s a little spicier than Jet normally likes his wheat noodles, but it doesn’t cause him to break out in feverish cramps and die, so Sho can be trusted to fetch breakfast unobserved at least.

After they’ve all finished eating, Sho takes the bowls back to where he’d found them. Smellerbee gives Jet a look for his allowance of Sho going off on his own. He responds by asking his fighters whether Sho should join the watch rotation soon.

Longshot votes yes, citing that Sho’s had plenty opportunity to do harm and done none. Smellerbee confesses that she doesn’t trust Sho enough yet, but acknowledges Sho’s ability to wake up earlier than most of them anyway. Later then, Jet concludes; soon, but not yet.

Sho comes back, remembering to give Jet the spare change. He’s bizarrely upfront for someone who obviously keeps most other things close to the chest. He’s started acting tense again, occasionally looking at the walls or ceiling. Maybe he’s claustrophobic. 

Jet doesn’t ask.

Since they hadn’t heard any other options than Gaipan (news of its destruction hasn't reached the waystation yet) or other overrun villages too far away to be worthwhile, finding the sandbenders that went by Hami remained their best option. 

How a nomadic tribe knew about passports for Ba Sing Se escaped Jet, but his current bet was smugglers and forgeries. Since fakes are exactly what they need, however, he’s plenty open to the suggestion. Any slavers that snatch them, or dare to even try, are going to get a very rude surprise.

Packed up, they leave the waystation out of one of the tunnels (Sho walks ahead very quickly, tense the entire time, most definitely claustrophobic) and head southeast for the mountain pass. For the first leg of the journey, it’s an easy walk through green leaved trees; sort of familiar but jarringly different.

There’s little conversation, nothing really of import to share when air is better saved for exertion. Getting to the waystation yesterday after Sho had joined them had established their walking order.

Sho walks in front because he has the worldliest experience in terrain and map reading ability. Jet walks behind him, then Smellerbee follows him, and Longshot brought up the rear. Sho also walked first because they trusted him the least and wanted to keep him in sight rather than at their backs. It rubbed Jet the wrong way to follow instead of lead, but he _has_ learned the very hard lesson of not putting his pride over practicality. 

Inanely and very suddenly, Jet wonders how old Sho is. The huge facial scar, too many days with not enough food, and the too knowing look in yellow eyes skewed any estimation. Sho’s not yet an adult clearly, but is he tall for his age? Is he closer to Smellerbee’s age, or Jet’s? He tells himself that he wouldn’t care if Sho’s older than him. Getting upset over a number would be as stupid as worrying about hair. He puts it out of mind, focusing on his feet as the ground starts inclining, the trees yielding to rock.

Longshot whistles a soft warning and without thinking, Jet shoots out a hand to snatch at Sho’s pack. Sho staggers to catch his balance and Jet lets go of him, deciding to ignore his reflex towards the newest addition.

“What’d you see?” He asks Longshot instead, so at least Sho knows why he’d been yanked to a stop.

Longshot taps four fingers to his wrist, then brushes his pinky finger down the back of that hand. Ambush. 

Jet grimaces. Smellerbee drags two fingers along her left cheek, between her red face paint stripes. Jet wavers a hand back and forth in response. Flanking without knowing the terrain could be more risky than rewarding.

“You’re doing it again.” Sho’s voice intrudes with a complaint on their strategy talk. He’s got his arms crossed and one foot tapping with annoyed impatience. 

“We need a way around the ambush up ahead,” Jet grudgingly explains. “At least four opponents. Is there a way to flank them from here?”

Sho’s remaining eyebrow quirks at the information, but at least he doesn’t question how they know it.

“I wouldn’t know, and they have the high ground advantage anyway. They’ll see any attempt to split up.”

“Not if we backtrack and come at them from a different direction,” Jet retorts. He knows that Sho can sneak, otherwise he never would’ve gotten under Smellerbee’s watch and the jump on Jet that first night. Jet can use a talent like that.

“If they’ve seen us, they’re going to suspect something by now,” Sho points out, not quite like he’s disagreeing with Jet but not all that approving of the suggestion to circle back either.

Jet frankly doesn’t want to hear what a firebender would rather do in this scenario. The impulse to use Sho as bait to spring the ambush is there, but reluctantly ignored. Prevent more deaths- not use it for reverse traps. Reminders.

Besides, if Sho died, they’d have to waste an entire day of travel waiting for him to revive at dawn tomorrow. Jet’s not interested in hauling a body anywhere. 

Given Sho’s habit of counter-arguing Jet’s every idea, he wouldn’t go along with that plan either.

Jet confers with his fighters again. Longshot keeps his eyes on the path ahead, indicating no additional numbers or advancement from the enemy. Smellerbee still thinks a flank attack would be worthwhile, but abridges an attack to mere reconnaissance. Jet has a new idea.

These aren’t their trees, but he bets that his fighters still know how to traverse them unseen better than anyone else. A quick check with Longshot confirms that the enemy units are on the ground, waiting right on the edge of the tree line before the mountain pass. Jet’s fighters could easily get the drop on those scumbags from above. No one ever looks up, especially not when they already believe themselves to have the advantage.

Haltingly, Jet remembers again that Sho doesn’t know their signals. A glance confirms that Sho’s once more annoyed to be left out of the silent strategy session. Maybe he should be taught, if only for the sake of convenience. Jet puts aside the thought for later, or never.

“I’m not bad at tree running. I haven’t done it in awhile, but I could keep up,” Sho relates once Jet has brusquely outlined the bones of the plan to him. 

Well, at least there’s that. It’s almost weird that Sho doesn’t say anything else, no additional commentary or reprimands. Jet decides not to invite any.

He takes the lead now, circling back northwest towards the river that runs through to the dam (now broken). Once Longshot signals they’re out of view from the pass, they’ll turn around and hug the smaller, western peak that makes up half of the pass. 

Sho follows them, saying nothing. Jet hadn’t realized he’d already gotten used to him being contradictory.

He doesn’t need to be checked on this. Jet already knew it. He doesn’t need Sho’s silence to tell him that getting rid of anyone preying on travelers is the right thing to do. Relying on an ashmaker to know how to act like a good, Earth Kingdom native (a freedom fighter even) was a stupid idea in the first place.

Longshot whistles the signal and they swing back around towards the southwest peak. Marching ahead, Jet has half a mind on his surroundings and the other half won’t stop rethinking itself.

They’re already moving west. It wouldn’t take much more time out of the way to just circle the peak and avoid the pass entirely. Should Jet risk his kids- and Sho, and their promise to him- just for some probable bandits? It’s the doubt that nearly pulls Jet up short.

Up until now, he’d been unconsciously assuming red, not green. The Fire Nation doesn’t send out four men squads this close to Ba Sing Se, to lay in wait and then ambush refugees. Those had been Earth merchants at the shipyard, haggling the last coins out of starving peoples’ pockets, whose stalls Jet had nearly smashed. His own people are attacking themselves, when the Fire Nation exists.

At least when they flooded Gaipan, it was to rid the valley of ashmakers and necessary sacrifices were to be made. Those merchants and these bandits, though? The only Fire National around is Sho, and it’s not him specifically that’s being targeted by the bandits.

Now Jet’s conflicted and furious about it, as well as aware of his own glaring hypocrisy. No, his first impulse is still right. Those bandits are cowards avoiding the war. Jet will bring the fight to them.

Closer to the pass again, Jet’s fighters climb into the trees. They stow their bags high in the branches for safekeeping, since tree running is tricky enough without the additional weight. True to his word, Sho keeps up pretty well, unpracticed but more importantly, quick and silent.

Jet can see the four that Longshot had sighted earlier himself now. All men; green, not red. Jet wants this fight too badly now to hesitate. He quietly whistles birdsong to Longshot and Smellerbee. Sho will just have to pick up the cues some other way, or just stay out of the way entirely.

As always, the signal to attack is the same. Jet swings down first.

It’s not a difficult or prolonged fight. Even when two of the bandits prove to be earthbenders, they’re easily prioritized and dispatched first. Sho fights with them surprisingly well, smoothly covering gaps in a formation that used to account for several more members; without overextending himself and getting in their way. 

The bandits were caught unprepared, were uncoordinated; clearly unused to each other’s tactics. The earthbenders’ attacks were too big to avoid hitting each other. Their ambush has successfully been turned against them, by four kids. No wonder they aren’t army. Pathetic.

Smellerbee and Longshot wordlessly hold their positions, waiting for Jet’s decision on what to do with the bandits. Sho stands further back, just on the edge of Jet’s peripheral. He still says nothing, with his swords still in hand. It’s Jet’s call.

He has half a mind to kill or maim these cowards and be done with it. Jet’s never killed green before. Even at Gaipan, Sokka’s intervention made that hold true still. He wouldn’t have _seen_ the green drown.

Leeches come in more than one color.

Jet grips his swords until his fingers ache. His sore wrist already aches from the combat.

“We’ll be coming back through here in a few weeks,” He starts, estimating ahead very generously, giving no real schedule away. His voice comes out steady, stark with anger.

“If you’re still here when we get back, or if I hear you’ve just set up somewhere else nearby, I’ll kill you then. The Fire Nation is already killing and stealing from us, and you’re helping them? You’re pathetic. You should be helping to win the war.”

One of the earthbenders scoffs. “Don’t talk to me about the war, boy. Maybe your friend there knows about what firebenders burn, but the rest of you brats wouldn’t know what it takes to-”

With no hesitation, nor thought, Jet flips his grip and hits the man across the face with the blunt curve of the hook. It still breaks skin and nearly puts the man on his back.

The silence is jarringly blaring. Jet feels bizarrely calm for how infuriated he is, how offended.

Out of the four of them, only the ashmaker knows the burn of a firebender? That same ashmaker, their _friend?_

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, old man. It’s not a choice.” Jet’s voice is _too_ steady, flat as if he feels nothing at all. “You’ll fight the right people in this war, or I’ll put you in the ground for good.”

This time, the earthbender says nothing. This may just be because Jet split his mouth and maybe knocked a few teeth loose. Jet decides to take the silence as obedience.

Sho still hasn’t said anything. Neither have his fighters.

He’s doing this right. He must be.

Jet points their temporary prisoners down the slope towards the trees, and north. Closer to the waystation full of refugees, but also Earth army guards and more importantly, not ahead of _them._ The four bruised, battered, bleeding men follow Jet’s direction and shuffle off.

Any supplies they’d had, stolen, hoarded, or otherwise, have been forfeited. 

Jet waits until the last man has disappeared between the trees before he hooks his swords at his belt decisively.

“Longshot, watch our flank so they don’t come back. Smellerbee, Sho, retrieve our bags. I’ll scout the pass, see what else they hid here.”

In a few minutes, Jet will realize that Sho listened to his orders and obeyed without protest. Currently, however, Jet’s still grappling with what he’s done, said, promised, and realized.

Right to threaten, to intervene, beat and maybe kill, if a person has done harm onto others. Is that the line? Sho hadn’t checked him. Does that mean Jet’s right, or that Sho shouldn’t be the one to help them _find_ the line in the first place?

The pass is clear of any further surprises.

Smellerbee and Sho return to Longshot with their bags. With a little searching, they find the supplies that the bandits had ferreted away. What can be carried is split among the four of them. The rest is hidden in new locations to possibly be retrieved on the way back, to be sold later or otherwise.

Sho finally speaks up, but only to consult the map, the distance left to travel under foliage, and where likely people would be on the desert outskirts.

Neither Longshot nor Smellerbee give any indication that Jet had made the wrong call, despite it being the first time they had attacked green as well.

Jet couldn’t trust them to tell him that yet, and now he’s doubting Sho’s ability as well. After all, why would an ashmaker speak up against an assault on Earth Kingdom cowards? Of course Sho wouldn’t care. They’d been nothing more than army deserters, exerting power over civilians fleeing the war.

Jet had seen their stockpile. There’d been as many trophies as useful supplies. Those bandits had enjoyed extorting defenseless survivors for their last possessions. Scum like that deserved worse than they got. If they’d been wearing red, Jet would’ve killed them without a moment’s pause.

What would Sho have done then? Anything, or nothing? Did he have any loyalty left to his murdering people, or had it been burned out of him? Are his scars the sign of a traitor? Would it matter if he was?

What’s the point in keeping him around if Jet’s consumed by doubt and second guessing everything he does from now on? How can this turmoil be what any of them need? 

The Fire Nation is still the enemy. Sho can’t change that. Jet can’t recall if he’s even tried. 

Sho’s an unusual exception anyhow. He only lives because he won’t stay dead.

Leeches come in every color, but that doesn’t change the war either. It just makes everything all the more complicated.

Jet needs to get out of his head, essentially walking blind behind Sho, but he doesn’t know what anyone could say that he’d want to hear. Why should they wait on _him_ to say anything anyway? Jet’s never been so unstable that he ever commanded silent servitude from his kids.

Smellerbee usually speaks up more. Longshot used to express himself more. Jet knows that Sho’s unafraid to stand up to him, so what holds his tongue now?

Jet hates this.

Would he even want Sho to tell him that he was right to attack men wearing green? Is a firebender’s approval worse than if Sho had been against clearing the bandits from the pass? Is there no good answer? Would it have been better to avoid the confrontation entirely after all? Could Jet have predicted he’d feel this way beforehand?

No, he’d realized what- or rather who he’d be raising his swords against well ahead of time. 

Those people- civilians in Gaipan, who’d submitted passively to Fire Nation occupation. Those bandits- people who profited off robbing refugees, their own people. Jet- who’d threatened to kill them both.

What’s the difference? Again, still- Where’s the line?

Can Sho still be trusted to show them where it is, if _his_ line has been skewed and misshapen all this time? A firebender born in their home islands, dead and then resurrected homeless- orphaned at nine, sentenced to survive alone and practically nameless? How did _he_ know right from wrong? _Did_ he at all? He forgave his own murderer but permits the beating of bandits?

Jet was a fool to believe that Sho could guide them anywhere. He’d been blinded by the need to keep Longshot and Smellerbee close, as well as the spiritual unusualness of deathlessness. They don’t even want Sho here. Sho had shown Jet that.

Sho’s hot hand on Jet’s throat, then in his hair, forcing him to look and then to _see_. Sho letting Jet up unburnt both times, not even watching as Jet had sobbed at his own failures. Sho who rose with the sun, as a firebender, and brought them breakfast just that morning. Sho with a pair of dual dao, who fought without firebending at all.

A firebender they wanted to bring into Ba Sing Se.

Longshot wanted to trust him with watch. Smellerbee said she didn’t, but she also hadn’t hesitated when Sho gave her food. 

Sho can be killed, but he revives at dawn. He tracks well, and can move swiftly, silently. Somehow, they’ve made him into an ally. Jet’s allied with an ashmaker- slept by him, ate next to him, coordinated a strike while Sho followed. Jet let Sho cover his back.

Sho is the exception, not the rule. Sho is… he’s not an enemy. He’s Fire Nation, and he’s not the enemy.

Okay, that’s… That’s one thing. Sho isn’t an enemy. Okay.

Bandits. Earth Kingdom bandits, probably army deserters, who’d attacked Earth Kingdom refugees. Cowards who collected trophies, who thought whatever grievances the war had inflicted also allowed them to do as they pleased. 

Wrong. They were wrong to attack their own people.

(Jet had been wrong to attack his own people.)

Jet had corrected them (been corrected) and flushed them out of their hideaway (flooded Gaipan, abandoned their treehouse hideout).

Jet had been right (wrong) to act.

He’s- wait, when did they stop?

Jet doesn’t remember sitting down. Who’s- yellow eyes, _ashmaker_ \- wait, scar.

Sho. Not an enemy. Right.

What’s wrong?

Jet had it figured out. He _had._

The grass smells familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Do you get your passports at the airport? Well atla canon seems to think the same thing with the ferry. No passports no tickets, & clearly the gaang didn’t have any (besides Toph). So off Jet’s squad goes to find their own.  
> 2) If Zuko can have a crisis fever/angst coma for going against what he’d always believed to be the right thing, then Jet can have one too. Things get better from here (as in he stops repeating the same things as often) but it’s not a cure-all either.  
> 3) This chap has the first major hints of the canon divergence coming into play. Assume canon events at your own risk from here on out bc Jet's focus is fairly singular & he's an unreliable narrator who won't be getting much news about the world for quite some time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit thanks for all the comments & interest in this story! I’m super fkn flattered <3
> 
> so I actually didn't wait very long before posting this after all, but EudociaCovert commented & I got MOTIVATED to Get Shit Done.

Jet opens his eyes to dark, and his first inane thought is that they could’ve used Sho as bait if they were going to waste the day anyway.

He has a splitting headache and he’s intolerably thirsty. His sore wrist throbs dully, either from overworking it or sleeping on it wrong.

An arm lifts over him and Jet jerks away on reflex because he hadn’t realized anyone was that close. Only, his body more like flops, evidently lacking the energy for even subconscious movements. The arm follows his jerky reflex patiently, like it’s not the first time Jet has flinched away while flat on his back.

Something wet is placed on Jet’s forehead, partly over his eyes, prompting him to sputter in defensive bewilderment.

“What’re you doing?” He demands hoarsely, pushing the wet thing up to squint at the perpetrator. This clearly isn’t an attack but he doesn’t what the hell it actually is either.

Sho blinks back placidly, his good side in shadow so that he’s all scar. Jet’s heart jumps back to when he’d first thought Sho was a vengeful spirit, before he reminds himself that Sho’s as alive as the rest of them. 

“Oh, are you lucid now?” Sho asks, retrieving the wet thing- a rag- off Jet’s face.

“What?” Jet furrows his brow, sitting up. He feels faintly dizzy from the sudden movement (maybe from missing meals as well) but he’s grateful that Sho doesn’t move to support or steady him. “What happened?”

The bandits hadn’t laid a hit on him and as far as he can remember, there’d been no second ambush. He doesn’t feel injured besides the wrist he started out with, just very woozy for no discernable reason other than a bad headache.

“You picked a weird time to get a fever,” Sho relates, handing Jet a water skin. “We’re not that far from the pass, and before you ask, Longshot is above us keeping watch and Smellerbee’s asleep, so she can take the next shift.”

Jet immediately looks to confirm, vaguely unsurprised to see that Sho hadn’t lied. Smellerbee looks small, curled up in a little defensive ball, but asleep and safe by the low campfire. Jet can only just see Longshot’s perch from his current position when he looks up, and probably only because Longshot chose that spot deliberately, so Jet could see him- also safe.

Jet relaxes somewhat, and though he wants to drink deeply from the water skin, restrains himself to sipping sparingly. He doesn’t know if they need to ration the water yet.

“Here,” Sho offers, picking up and then holding out a bowl. “Eat this. It’ll help with the headache.”

Jet squints at him even as he takes the bowl. “How do you know how I feel?”

“Fevers make you sweat. Dehydration gives you headaches,” Sho explains bluntly, sitting back and crossing his legs. “It’s just stew we had earlier.”

It smells like it, though Jet’s portion looks of mostly broth. He realizes the bowl is warm in his hands, in spite of the fact that it’s clearly been a long time since the other three ate. Sho hadn’t picked up the bowl from near the campfire either.

“Did you heat this up yourself?” Jet wonders, more surprised than alarmed that firebending could be used for something so mundane as warming soup.

“Yeah,” Sho confirms, like it really hadn’t been a big deal. “No one likes cold soup.”

Well, that’s true. Jet sips at his stew broth, thoughtful.

He abruptly came down with a random fever, halting their progress for the day. Unfortunate, but evidently unavoidable. Just as clearly, his fighters handled the situation well in his indisposition, arranging a watch, even if that left Sho unexpectedly playing nursemaid. In a way, Jet supposes that makes the most sense, if Longshot needs to keep his eyes on the surrounding dark and Smellerbee needs to rest for her later shift. It’s already been proven that Sho won’t harm Jet, so why not put him to use on fever duty? He’s not the enemy.

Jet nearly drops the bowl, his head’s throbbing having sharpened painfully all of a sudden.

“You okay?” Sho asks, quietly worried as he supports Jet’s hands so that he doesn’t spill the soup all over himself. 

Sho’s touch feels warm, but no warmer than anyone would be, and completely natural. Hands rough with calluses, from sword handling and tough living.

Unsettled, Jet pulls away. “I’m fine,” He mutters, draining the rest of the bowl to avoid Sho’s eyes.

Notably, Sho doesn’t push the subject. He pushes off the ground to scoot further away, giving Jet space now that he’s conscious and doesn’t need tending.

Jet silently considers Sho’s profile. This is the third time in as many days that they’re the only two awake or close enough to talk. It’s becoming a pattern. Jet would rather talk to his kids, without either of them watching and waiting to see if he makes another bad call.

The only way to do either of those things is to actually _talk_ to them, and _listen_ to what they have to say in response. It’s way overdue. Maybe Jet wouldn’t feel so damn confused if he has Smellerbee and Longshot to confer with. He needs to trust them again. He’s gotten too doubtful, too untrusting of the only ones he _can_ still trust.

That ends now- or more practically, in the morning, when everyone’s awake at the same time. If they all have a different view of where the line in the sand is, then the truth must be somewhere in the average of those estimates.

Simplify: reduce complications, establish facts, clarify reservations. Not enough conference had cost them everything; going too far had ended it all. Not again. Never again. 

Longshot and Smellerbee are _his_ , and he’s also theirs. Sho is… not that, but he’s not an enemy. An ally, at the very least. Jet can and will work with an exception.

A firebender who uses his bending to warm up soup. Jet from a week ago would’ve ripped his vocal cords laughing at the absurdity of the very idea. Jet a week ago had still been raving about the weak willed Avatar after his kids fled the trees rather than stay and burn with him.

He feels ill again, though thankfully not as bodily as earlier versions. Still, Jet decides to lie back down.

“You okay?” Sho checks again quietly, and Jet absently gives him a thumbs up.

He doesn’t want to talk, and he’s done enough thinking. Jet just wants to feel settled.

-

“You thought so hard you fell over?” Smellerbee asks incredulously.

Jet did _not_ say that, which means he explained himself poorly. Still, it’s a good sign that Smellerbee hadn’t hesitated to question the ridiculousness of his hesitant theory.

“I went through something similar,” Sho unexpectedly offers, drawing eyes to him. 

He’d offered to scout ahead or hunt to give the three of them privacy to talk, but after some deliberation, Jet told him to stay. Transparency going forward with _all_ of them, even Sho. Now, with that revelation, Jet’s glad he extended that little more trust.

“A fever? From thinking too hard?” Smellerbee repeats, skirting the edge between dubious and outright mocking.

Jet stifles his rising annoyance. He wants her to question him, to keep him fallible. 

Sho rolls his eyes. “I don’t know if that’s the source. I’m just saying it sounds familiar. Tell me if I get this wrong,” He prompts Jet, waiting until he receives a nod.

“You realized an irrefutable fact was flawed. A rule made an exception. People are just people, no matter where they come from. You felt-”

“Stop,” Jet chokes out, and Sho closes his mouth, nodding to himself.

Too close; much too close to the core. Even if Sho’s the exception, for Jet to be known by- to have that much in common with- a firebender is too much.

“It made me feel sick,” Sho adds, quieter as he shares about himself now instead of plucking thoughts straight out of Jet’s head. “I… when I was nine, after… that first year. I died. A lot,” He says stiltedly, eyes fixed to the ground. “I learned… too much. I couldn’t take it, but… I learned how to carry it. I had to. I don’t stay dead.”

Again, it’s more than Jet wanted to hear. A large part of him nastily sneers, what else would you expect from ashmakers?

Sho had been one of theirs. A child.

Jet doesn’t want to compare tragedies. He suspects Sho would win.

“So, what does that mean?” Smellerbee demands, disallowing the heavy silence to linger. 

“It means that Sho’s the exception to the rule,” Jet answers, speaking the words into truth. “And that leeches come in every color.”

Jet doesn’t look at Sho. He already knows that the other teen understands. He watches his fighters take in his words and examine them for faults. It takes a minute.

“Those bandits yesterday were Earth Kingdom,” Smellerbee states after a bit, looking at no one.

Longshot gives just two signals: enemy and wrong.

Jet nods, and it doesn’t feel as hard to swallow as the day before.

“Gaipan was Earth,” Smellerbee also says this like a fact.

Jet holds very still.

Longshot changes only one of his hand signals: us and wrong.

Jet should nod again. Hasn’t he had enough proof that he made the wrong call? Sho can say that _should’ve_ doesn’t end up mattering if he didn’t, but Jet _would’ve_ murdered Earth native civilians and called it a victory. He _still_ regrets failing to kill the Fire Nation soldiers.

“We were wrong,” Longshot reiterates aloud. Twice in a week is a new record for him to speak. It needs to be said, and heard.

“We were wrong,” Smellerbee echoes, tasting the words with a sour pinch to her mouth.

Jet swallows dry air. He can say it. He futilely wets his lips.

“I was wrong.” His voice is raspier than Sho’s for this, but he spoke the words into truth.

“Yesterday, with those bandits,” Smellerbee bull rushes onwards. “We were right to get rid of them, even though they were Earth.”

Longshot nods.

This time, the nod also comes easily to Jet. They’re in accord, and right now, Jet knows it because he’s been told and not because that he blindly took their agreement as an unspoken assumption. It helps, to be sure.

“Is that why you didn’t say anything?” Smellerbee turns on Sho accusingly, who startles to be suddenly addressed. “When Jet almost killed that bender, did you already know?”

Jet’s stung by her belief that he’d meant to kill the earthbender who’d spoken up. Hadn’t she seen him flip his grip? It was always meant to be a nonfatal blow.

“Know what?” Sho asks, bewildered while Jet’s still trying to process another crack in his foundation, right after he thought it might be solid once more. “What do you want me to say? You _were_ right to attack those bandits. It doesn’t matter what color they wear. Assholes are assholes, everywhere. If they hurt others, they deserve to get hurt.”

It makes perfect sense to Jet, but it also proves another thought he’d had before the fever. Sho’s line is skewed. How can it not be? How could anyone die countless times and still stay sane? On that mindset, Sho’s _too_ normal, _too_ well adjusted. 

Jet needs to know how deep this goes.

“When I killed you,” He starts, capturing Sho’s attention with another little jerk. “You said you understood that the only reason I needed was that you’re a firebender. Explain that to me.”

“What part needs explaining?” Sho huffs, crossing his arms. “You hate the Fire Nation. You should. Everyone else does. You have reason to hate them. I’m not blind, deaf, or stupid. I know what my people have done. A lot of them deserve to be hated.”

All things Jet never thought he’d ever hear from an ashmaker, and closer to what his gut instinct is urging him to uncover.

“Do _you_ hate them?”

What happens then, there’s no other way to explain it. Sho’s expression cracks open.

Unfettered rage contorts his scar to pure malevolence. For a terrifying moment, Jet thinks that loosed fury is aimed at _him_. Agonized betrayal slices the rage in half, leaving behind a dizzyingly abrupt void.

“Sometimes I do,” Sho admits, his voice a dead thing and his eyes far away. “Other times… I just miss home.”

The creeping longing is nearly worse than the blinding fury. Sho sighs and consciously flexes his fingers, painfully spooling himself back into one, whole person and not a shattered collection of pieces.

Jet feels winded just watching him perform a clearly practiced routine. He realizes Smellerbee has gripped onto his arm. What they just saw spooked her too. Jet glances at Longshot, giving Sho the time to collect himself. The archer’s silence feels more stark than normal. He seems perturbed, but not disturbed by Sho’s… not exactly outburst, but shocking display all the same. Jet wonders about that.

“Anyway,” Sho mutters, recrossing his arms in a different fold. “Why does it matter? We weren’t talking about me.”

“I think we were,” Jet points out.

If Sho’s answering glower didn’t look so tired, Jet might’ve felt intimidated for once, after glimpsing what Sho keeps contained beneath the surface. Jet thought he understood hatred and rage. He’s never died at the hands of his own people. Hopefully he never will. He puts the thought aside.

“The _original_ point,” Sho reminds them crossly. “Was about the three of you. Not me.”

Jet sighs. Sho’s right about that. He’d gotten distracted and ended up triggering Sho in the process. Frankly, they’re lucky it hadn’t amounted to more than a brief fright. Jet’s seen kids get stuck in the bad memories and lash out at anyone who was too close. Sho’s too dangerous of an individual to lose control like that. They’ll all need to learn what to avoid for the future.

For now, don’t get distracted again. Jet turns back to his fighters.

“Sho helps, just by being here, but I need you two to check me, too,” He admits, in spite of how much he feels like a failure at telling them he can’t trust himself to lead.

He forces himself to meet first Smellerbee’s eyes, then Longshot’s. “Keep speaking up.”

Smellerbee casts her gaze down. “We should’ve sooner. Maybe it wouldn’t have gotten so bad then.”

“Maybe, but we can’t know that now,” Jet says. “Let’s just focus from here on out, alright?”

On this front, Jet’s willing to accept that Sho’s attitude on how should’ve doesn’t impact the now. They have enough regrets to carry without adding might have beens.

Longshot knocks his knuckles to Jet’s shoulder guard in a move that he hasn’t done since before the dam. He agrees, and reinforces his loyalty in one familiar motion.

Jet blinks back the slight burn in his eyes. “Thanks, Longshot.”

Smellerbee blows out her breath in a gust. “Obviously we will. Who else is going to? Sho?”

“Are you still on that?” Sho asks sharply, while Jet is still trying to catch up on why Smellerbee had singled Sho out again. 

“If you aren’t going to speak up, why else are you here?” Smellerbee snipes, and Jet’s confusion abates only somewhat.

Why did-

“You really thought I was gonna kill that guy?” Jet interrupts, remembering, and although Sho huffs, he allows another tangent.

The sting of Smellerbee’s doubt is back. Why she thinks Sho should’ve been the one to speak against Jet when _she_ had the doubt is a question for another time.

“You hit him really hard,” Smellerbee mumbles defensively. 

She _had_ thought he’d meant to kill. She hadn’t seen him flip his grip. Who had she been watching instead? Twice now she’s brought in Sho to this scenario. Maybe that question is actually more relevant for right now.

“What’s Sho got to do with that?”

“Why else is he here?” Smellerbee repeats in a yell, surging to her feet. “If he doesn’t stop you from killing more people, then why do we want him around?”

“Less is keeping me here by the minute,” Sho mutters darkly and Jet stands as well just to feel like he has a better handle on these fraying threads.

It hurts that Smellerbee thinks he’d kill at just the slightest provocation. Is she wrong, a dark part of Jet’s brain whispers, you killed Sho in his sleep for lighting a campfire. 

That was different. That was only four days ago.

“Wait,” Jet half orders, half pleads when Smellerbee impatiently opens her mouth.

She shuts it like a reflex, remembers something, and draws herself right back up. “No. Tell me why we need a firebender around if you want _us_ to keep you in check. How does _he_ help? By doing nothing?”

“Is _that_ what this is about?” Sho demands with a sardonic twist to his mouth. “You’re upset that Jet would listen to me and not you? Like a jealous little kid?”

“Don’t,” Jet says sharply, pointedly stepping in between the two of them when Smellerbee’s hands go for her daggers. 

He stares her down first. Is that really what this is about? Jealousy? Even if it is, Jet won’t tolerate Sho talking down to her like that. He waits until Smellerbee grudgingly holds her palms out bare, heeding his warning. He then switches his glare onto Sho, who immediately scoffs.

“Don’t treat me like one of your followers, Jet. I’m not the one with the problem here. You made the right call. If those bandits are still there when we- when I head back that way, I’ll carry through on your threat myself.”

Jet resists the urge to grind his teeth. He’d wanted this morning to build something better, not prompt it to splinter apart. One thing at a time.

“Smellerbee.”

She straightens attentively- a soldier’s response. Jet ignores a stab of mingled pride and shame.

“Do you want Sho to leave?”

He has other questions, but the rest depend on her answer to this one.

Contrary to her most recent implications, Smellerbee now hesitates when asked directly. Jet waits patiently for her to come to a decision. At an odd time, he remembers that she’s the one who gave Sho a name to use. He wonders why she picked it.

Jet can read her answer in the way her shoulders droop before she speaks.

“No,” Smellerbee finally admits, as painful as pulling out a black tooth. She looks up at Jet from under her headband, every inch of just thirteen years old. “I just don’t understand, Jet. Why do you trust him more than us?”

“It’s like he said,” Jet answers her as honestly as he must, if he wants to regain _her_ trust. “He’s not one of my kids. I haven’t poisoned _him_ to stay quiet and obey me without question.”

“You didn’t-” Smellerbee chokes on her protest, immediately horrified and then shamefaced.

Motionless until now, Longshot comes up to Smellerbee’s shoulder and puts his arm around her. She leans into him and won’t look up at Jet.

“Hey, we’re all still learning, right?” Jet tries softly. “Old habits die hard and all that. All we need is practice. And a few reminders.”

At his last addendum, Smellerbee peeks past Jet towards Sho. Jet also turns to look. As the only one still seated, Sho’s still ever the odd one out.

“Guess it’s up to you then. Do _you_ still wanna stay?” Jet asks him, bizarrely hopeful for a firebender’s response. 

Sho just looks tired and unimpressed. He heaves a sigh and then climbs to his feet at last.

“Still not my worst idea. I’ll stay, but try not to use me as a substitute for your issues again.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jet counters, a little irritated despite his surprisingly genuine relief that Sho decided to stay. He’s not going to forget that flash of unhinged rage, nor the following devastation, any time soon. “You wanna tell us what else needs to be avoided? Here, I’ll start: you firebend near me, I’ll go for your head first and think after.”

Sho looks taken aback by Jet’s candor.

Jet tilts his head. “What, first time anyone’s pointed those out to you? We all have them. Knowing them is how we keep from accidentally hurting each other.”

He can see the second that hits. Sho winces and touches his hair in an anxious tick.

“I don’t like being underground,” Sho confesses quietly, which Jet had guessed already and definitely explains Sho’s reactions to the ferry waystation. “Don’t reach for my face, or grab my wrists. You shouldn’t wake me by touch.”

He pauses his list, seemingly to think, his brow furrowed in remembered pain.

“That’s enough to work with for now,” Jet absolves the burden of remembrance, since he honestly hadn’t intended to send Sho on a bad trip. “It’s a good basis for all of us, actually. Save for the underground bit.”

This morning’s been heavy enough without digging up the more particular traumas.

Sho takes the out without protest, no room for false bravado at the moment. Jet nods and looks to his fighters once more.

Longshot is calm and steady, satisfied that he’s been heard and that they’re truly on a better path. Smellerbee is less certain with herself, but she still seems prepared and ready to give the fresh start another go.

How can Jet do any less?

“Alright,” He murmurs, standing straight. “Where to next?”

Sho sighs and goes for the map.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortest chapter so far but that was a good place to stop. Things have been aired out a lot more (finally) and now some actual progress can be made.
> 
> Question: would tagging this as Zuko-centric be misleading or nah? Bc this rly is kinda the Jet & Zuko show tbh, even if it's only Jet's POV. 
> 
> Corrections/criticisms are welcome (as long as you're respectful about it). Mention if you'd like to see something in the tags.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was debating with myself on this chapter for a bit, since it contains the most breaks & time jumps so far, about whether to keep it as is or try to fill it out with better transitions. It then kinda struck me that there is no right answer bc it's MY writing & hence whatever I do IS my style. Plus, I'd rather post _something_ than sit on a piece forever & never post it bc I'm indecisive. So here's ch4 as is, & I'm satisfied with it.
> 
> [here's the map again for reference](https://external-preview.redd.it/D6COo3YmmcBYv5zwCHMdZO4kUjpczWZjNc-Td7cHH20.jpg?auto=webp&s=96e43204a9d64cee57ed9b0acda8f2e05106c180)

Predictably, the Si Wong Desert is an endless expanse of sand. Jet wonders how anyone can survive out there, when you can’t even trust the haze of heat on the horizon. From the shelter of the last line of green trees, Jet doesn’t see any sign of life. He hadn’t expected immediate results, but the barren nothingness stretching out before them is… discouraging.

“We stick to the fringe,” Sho informs them, once more appraising his trusty map. The harsh sun washes him out, sickly pale.

Jet wonders if it’s a firebender thing that he doesn’t burn under the sun his people worship.

“We can head west from here, so we know that we at least have the river,” Sho continues, shifting the map higher so that Longshot can see his proposed routes. “Or if that’s still too risky, we go east. There’ll probably be people living in this area.”

Jet and Smellerbee crowd in to look as well. Longshot holds up one side of the map without needing to be asked, allowing Sho to circle an area east of their current location. There’s some gaps in the trees, and Jet can see where the illustration fades from the tan sand back to the brown earth. If that even remotely implies what Jet assumes it does, then he agrees with Sho’s estimate.

“We’re not going to head further in?” He still asks, because he had noticed a distinct lack of shoulds or coulds in Sho’s proposals, which means he’s adamant about these options only.

“No.” As expected, Sho rejects the idea immediately.

Jet wonders if Sho has been through this desert before; if that’s why he refuses to even entertain the suggestion now. He doesn’t ask, because he doesn’t want to see fleshed out nightmares in Sho’s too deep eyes, if that’s really the case. It’s not as though Jet wants to force his kids into such a harsh environment anyway.

“We stick to the fringe,” He agrees. “I think our best bet would be east.”

Sho nods, not too sharply but clearly satisfied that Jet hadn’t put up a fight about this.

“We should avoid splitting up from now on,” Jet adds, remembering Sho’s concern about slavers. “Scout in pairs if we need to, check in often, and establish paired watch shifts at night.”

This of course implies that, by the sake of their number, Sho will always be with someone who knows the whistles. Still, Jet elbows Sho to get his attention specifically.

“Hey, can you whistle?”

Jostled from the light tap to the ribs, Sho pauses in rolling up the map. “Yes?” He answers, unsure why it matters.

“Show me,” Jet encourages- or maybe commands. He’s still working on that.

Arching his brow, Sho nonetheless complies by whistling a long, clear note. It’s better than expected. He’ll be able to pick up their signals easily.

“Okay, this one means danger. Repeat it back to me.”

-

Sho’s lying down, but Jet can’t quite figure out what else he’s doing. He’s not asleep, because he keeps opening his eyes whenever one of them maybe-but-didn’t see something on the perpetually hazy horizon. He’s just sort of… basking, like another yellow eyed dangerous thing that likes the sun.

Sho is very much like a viper-lizard. Jet’s fortunate that he’s only seen the fangs, and not felt the venomous bite.

“What’s this one mean?” Smellerbee demands of the basking firebender, because she’s been quizzing Sho relentlessly since they’d started to teach him their codes yesterday.

Sho’s furrowed brow means he heard her whistle and is trying to place its cadence in his short term memory. They’ve learned that it takes a lot of repetition for Sho to get the answer right. Even firebenders can be slow learners, and yet as stubborn as a rock.

Sho opens his eyes, not even needing to squint at the cloudless sky. “That one means wait at a distance.”

That one only took him seven attempts to finally get it right. He’ll have them all down eventually.

Jet scans the horizon yet again, seeing nothing but the constant waver of heat over sand. He’s already tired of this routine and its strain on his eyes. He doesn’t know how Longshot can tolerate it unflinchingly.

Smellerbee keeps quizzing Sho on the codes he still gets wrong, a gradual process of elimination that provides an amusing backdrop to the mundane duty of watch.

They’ve decided to split the days as well as the watch pairs: half the day (the cooler morning) for traveling east, and the hotter half for waiting to see if anyone approaches this direction. Sticking to the forest fringe still yields resources to supplement their supplies, but it’s not a permanent solution. They can’t afford to wait in one place over such a vast area, but neither can they be too hasty and miss a sign of who they’re looking for out here.

If by the time they reach as far east as their supplies last and they still haven’t found the means to acquire passports, then the plan is to return to the water to the north of them and follow it back west. It’ll take them back to the ferry waystation eventually, rendering this whole excursion a huge waste of time, but better that than dead.

Well, death for the three of them. Sho can just get back up and keep going on his own. Jet wonders if such a thing has happened to Sho before. It’s another thing he doesn’t ask because he doesn’t actually want an answer. 

It’s a morbid thing to be curious about. Jet couldn’t tolerate surviving alone; moving on after his last fighters had died. Sho wouldn’t even have a choice to die with them, not truly. Jet imagines it’s just easier to travel alone by that point, _if_ Sho has woken to dead companions before.

How many people has Sho buried? Sho doesn’t like being underground. How many graves has he crawled out of?

Jet tries to banish the thought, deeply uncomfortable. He’s _never_ going to ask. The contemplation lingers persistently though.

Sho has claimed twice now that traveling with them is not his worst idea. The more Jet considers the possibilities, made worse by Sho’s deathlessness, the less he wants to find out what Sho truly considers to be his worst idea.

As an exception and their ally, Jet no longer thinks of ways for Sho’s death to be used for benefit. It goes against their promise to him in the first place, and it no longer feels right either.

It’s still a bizarre thought to realize, but no longer a nauseating one. Jet doesn’t want _this_ firebender to die. Sho is more similar than any of them were prepared to acknowledge, but acknowledgment doesn’t make it any less true. Jet can’t forget that.

Below Jet’s perch, Sho gets another of their codes right. 

-

Sparring while water is a scarce resource is a poor idea, but frequent stretches are a necessary exercise injected into their new routine to avoid losing strength and flexibility after days of walking and waiting.

Sho’s wholly refreshed his ability for tree climbing and running, and Jet has grudgingly learned the benefits of being able to do the splits without cringing. Smellerbee’s taught Sho how to hold his Earth Kingdom dagger as more than a keepsake, but Sho’s depth perception isn’t accurate enough for knife throwing.

“I can still see,” Sho explains, gesturing to his narrow slit of an eye buried in a leathery scar. “But it doesn’t get any wider than this.”

It limits his field of view enough to be something he’s learned to compensate for. Jet a week ago would’ve exploited the weakness. Jet today accounts for an injury’s unavoidable consequences in his plans, rearranging Sho’s position in his head so that Longshot’s far seeing eyes can cover him on that side.

Jet’s not vengeful, prideful, or stupid enough to discredit the benefits of having a friendly firebender in the squad either. Hot food has become a forgone conclusion even when a campfire isn’t an option. When the desert nights proved unexpectedly cold, Sho’s deep and steady breathing kept the fire stoked for most of the night and warmed the air itself around him. 

Perhaps heeding Jet’s one-off warning about firebending, however, Sho hasn’t bent a proper flame since that first morning after he decided to stay. He practices bending movements without his element (usually with his swords too), and hasn’t meditated again with a cupped flame as far as Jet knew. 

A large part of Jet appreciates the consideration for him- for _their_ obvious wariness of firebending. A smaller, but growing part of Jet honestly starts to worry, because every bender he’s ever met has talked about their bending like they need it equal to breathing. 

Katara had been so desperate to learn her element that she’s literally crossing the entire world to do it. Is Sho getting what he needs? Are his little heating tricks enough to satisfy that need? Jet doesn’t know how to ask, nor if Sho would welcome it.

Sho’s not one of Jet’s kids. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself. 

Jet watches Sho gently but firmly push down on Longshot’s back to help the archer reach his toes, and wonders about Sho being something entirely new. 

Not someone to raise up and direct, but someone who’s been steady on his own feet for a long time and is unafraid to stand toe to toe with Jet. The last person to do that had been Sokka, and underestimating him next to his waterbending sister and the Avatar had led to Jet’s greatest downfall.

Jet had been wrong to flood Gaipan. He still needs the reminders. Someday, he’ll actually and properly feel for that error, and not just regret what that choice had cost him. Until then, Sho just being here helps to remind Jet of how much he’s already changed, and how much farther there’s left to go.

The world is not just two colors. He’s learning new shades of it with each passing day.

-

Jet rolls his wrist, pleased by the absence of pain. Sho’s never apologized for hitting him hard enough to sprain it, and considering the circumstances, Jet wasn’t owed one. It’s overall best for everyone if that particular night remains as unaddressed as possible from now on.

Though apparently, the injury’s source hadn’t been a normal strike. As Sho explains, chi manipulation is something even nonbenders can use. It’s become increasingly obvious that Sho’s had a proper education before, just by the way he lectures them when sharing what he knows.

“A lot of what I remember is philosophical hogwash, so we’ll be skipping that part,” Sho starts promisingly, much to Jet’s quiet amusement. “The basics are this: there are seven chakras. Learning where they are and what they stand for is the first step.”

Sho demonstrates on his own body as he lists the seven. “Crown of the head, forehead, throat-”

Jet shifts his weight when Sho passes over his scarred neck.

“Heart, stomach, sacrum, and the base of the spine,” Sho finishes with a hand behind his back.

“The hell’s a sack-um?” Smellerbee wrinkles her nose and Sho smirks.

“Sacrum. It’s a bone in your pelvis.”

“Why didn’t you just say that then? I thought you were pointing at your dick,” Smellerbee complains and Jet laughs freely while Sho just snorts.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time. So, the seven chakras pretty much all line up.” Sho holds a hand vertically in front of his chest, thumb pointed inward. “The chi paths all move outwards from there. I used to know a girl who could hit you three times and you’d be paralyzed for hours.”

Sho does that sometimes; drops little hints of his old lives seemingly without realizing it, and then just glosses over the tidbit entirely.

“I don’t know how she did that, but I got used to opening my chi paths so it’d wear off faster. _That’s_ what I’ll be trying to teach you.”

Another hint, which made Jet morbidly curious. What kind of kid got used to being paralyzed enough to develop a countermeasure? What kind of life was that? The questions went in the mental box Jet newly had, along with the rest of the questions not to be asked aloud.

“We work up,” Sho instructed, a hand still behind his back to indicate the base of his spine. “This one’s the easiest. You survive without letting fear rule you.”

Jet straightens, private mirth and morbid curiosity fading quickly. Sho’s definitely right to start with this one. If there’s anything they know, it’s how to survive in spite of the world that wanted them dead.

Longshot wants to know how they will know what this chi or the chakra feels like. Jet waits to see if Sho understands before he translates. He’s been slowly getting better at reading Longshot’s subtle cues.

Whether it’s the really specific context or Sho just infers a lucky guess, he does manage to grasp the unspoken question enough to accurately answer.

“You won’t really feel any huge difference. At least, I never have. The proof that it worked was all I ever needed. Just knowing it’s there, what you need to do, will be enough.”

Not overly helpful, Jet thinks, but fair enough. He appreciates practicality over philosophy anyway.

“Alright. What’s the proof?”

Sho smirks, which is the closest he’s gotten so far to smiling, like how snorting is as close as he gets to laughing. This smirk sort of looks anticipatory.

“The results. For me, it was getting up hours earlier than I was supposed to after being paralyzed. It’s cutting through metal in one stroke.”

Jet’s interest sharpens and he can see his fighters also pay much more attention in his peripheral. 

Sho’s smirk widens to show teeth. “Thought you might like that. I’ll explain the rest of the chakras, and then we’ll see if there’s been any obvious improvements. Sound good?”

Jet nods, eager to get started.

-

Sho had suggested meditation to help familiarize them with the chakra lessons, but hadn’t been surprised when no one took him up on the suggestion. It did provide Jet with the perfect opportunity to ask whether _Sho_ wanted to meditate though.

“Nah, I don’t really need it that often,” Sho denies over their evening meal campfire. “It doesn’t really help to do it without fire either. Too much habit to unlearn.”

That pretty much confirms what Jet had thought, in that Sho isn’t taking chances with his firebending. He still doesn’t know how to address it. Tell Sho it’s fine and that Jet doesn’t mind the casual display of firebending? They literally _just_ talked about lying blocking one of the chakras. Jet thinks it was the throat. Probably.

Point is, the question goes in the mental box with the rest.

-

They all get nightmares occasionally. Even Sho, or perhaps especially Sho.

Jet’s are usually of fire, that one bastard firebender whose face he can _never_ forget. Others are of the kids he’s lost, either recently or years past. Katara features in the newest ones, her furious accusations and the icy chill she’d left behind in her wake. Sometimes, he’s frozen there helpless while the great wave of a flood crashes towards him. That one’s pretty self-explanatory; nothing ambiguous about his worst mistake.

Jet’s gotten used to jerking awake silently and going back to sleep when he can by necessity. A leader couldn’t be seen as weak. Things are undeniably different now, but Jet doesn’t break this particular habit. He neither wants nor needs comfort.

Dreams don’t affect reality. They’re pointless. Jet dislikes most anything that’s a waste of time.

-

Sho’s teaching Smellerbee how to braid- a fancy kind for hair and not just for making stronger rope. Longshot’s been captured as her practice dummy, because Sho can’t teach her that well if she’s sitting behind him doing _his_ hair.

Jet’s glad that his own hair isn’t long enough to do anything with. A week on the desert fringe aside, Jet’s not nearly bored enough for _that_ yet.

-

Jet wakes up from movement, knowing that Sho’s on watch now, by process of elimination as Longshot is asleep and Smellerbee is climbing down from a tree so Jet can take her place.

Partnered watch shifts are tough. No one’s getting as much sleep as they used to. It’s wearing on them. In another week, they’ll be far enough east to have made all of this effort worthless. Jet’s learned a lot, but he could’ve learned anywhere- not dried out next to the desert with heat tender skin, no matter how much they stuck to the shade of the trees.

Jet’s glad now, more than ever, that Sho had flat out refused to go into the desert proper. Out there, there is no reprieve from the harsh sun, or protection in the cold nights.

Smellerbee takes Jet’s body-warmed spot on the ground, and Jet climbs into a tree to sit parallel on a branch to Sho’s position. They face opposite directions and don’t bother with conversation.

Jet trusts him enough to show Sho his back now, without even needing to think about it beforehand. Longshot had been right, all those days ago at the ferry waystation. Trusting Sho with watch is easy. He’s had every opportunity to hurt them and taken none of them. He’s a threat certainly, but not to them.

-

“What if all this has just been a waste of time?” Smellerbee gives voice to the thought that’s been plaguing Jet for days.

“Then we change direction and keep looking,” Jet tells her, firm even with the repetition of the plan they all agreed on. He tells her what he’s been telling himself, because laying down and giving up has never been an option.

“And then what?” Smellerbee pressures. “Once we’re finally in Ba Sing Se, what do we _do?_ What about Sho?”

A firebender in the heart of the Earth Kingdom. Jet’s been trying not to think too hard about that irrefutable fact, even if he’s accepted that Sho’s the exception to the rule and an ally.

“Which part are you worried about the most?” Jet asks Smellerbee.

It’s just them on watch right now. They’ve been trying to stagger themselves so Sho sleeps earliest in the night, because he just _can’t_ sleep past sunrise. Could they hide that in Ba Sing Se? Would people notice, or even know it’s a firebender trait? Maybe if Jet helps Smellerbee work out some of her concerns, it’ll alleviate some of his own.

Smellerbee takes some time to think and Jet doesn’t turn to look, keeping his eyes on the dark expanse of cold desert. As ever, there’s nothing out there to be seen.

“Sho’s going to stay with us,” Smellerbee finally says, not much like a question.

“He is,” Jet confirms for her anyway, because maybe she needs to hear it.

“Okay,” Smellerbee says. “What’re _we_ gonna do in the city?”

“Whatever we can,” Jet answers as honestly as he can manage. “We don’t know how it’ll be until we get there. Find work, I guess.”

The army takes nonbenders, doesn’t it? Jet doesn’t know if he could commit to actual enlistment, not if it meant abandoning his fighters, but he has experience in scouting and skirmishes that someone could use. He can’t just forget the war exists and do nothing while knowing the Fire Nation is out there, burning its way across the world.

A fresh start has never meant that he stops fighting. Jet’s suddenly worried that stopping is what Smellerbee _wants_. He stops, forcing himself to ask first, before his brain sprints ahead with more wild assumptions.

“What do you think we should do, Bee?”

“I don’t know,” Smellerbee admits with a sigh. “I don’t know how to live in a city. What do they even do there?”

“We’ll find out,” Jet reassures. 

For the moment, he’s just relieved that she didn’t immediately expect a total halt of all fighting the war. That would be too far, after what the Fire Nation had done to them, their families. 

They must keep up the fight, somehow. Living willfully in ignorance would be worse than being enslaved. Knowing but doing nothing would tear Jet apart.

As for bringing Sho into Ba Sing Se, they’ll have to be careful. Sho had said the Earth army tortures firebenders. Jet doesn’t like to think that Sho got that information from first hand experience, but he also refuses to put that belief to the test. Sho doesn’t openly firebend in the first place. His heating tricks can be disguised or cleverly excused, for when he _needs_ to bend. Most of all, Sho himself assuredly knows how to be careful.

They can say that Sho is from a colony, like the one Longshot had escaped from. The two even look similar enough, like relatives. For the first time, Jet pauses to think what that means.

Longshot’s eyes are dark where Sho’s are bright, but the pale skin and black hair are the same. Those are the only similarities.

Jet shakes his head. The Fire Nation doesn’t have a monopoly on black hair and a pale complexion. Longshot is Earth, not Fire. He always has been. Jet insults his dear and loyal friend for thinking otherwise. Sho is still the only exception.

“Jet?” Smellerbee asks, startling Jet from his distraction.

A stupid thing to do while on watch duty; to get so lost up in his head. Jet straightens and clears his throat.

“Yeah, Bee?”

“Do you feel better?”

Jet again resists the urge to turn and look, frowning out at the motionless desert. “What do you mean?”

“What I said,” Smellerbee returns bluntly. “Do you _feel better?”_

Jet’s unclear on which emphasis he should be paying more attention. Better as opposed to what? Or when, Jet supposes the comparison point must be obvious.

“Yeah, Bee. I feel better,” He informs her quietly. 

It’s true enough, and satisfied with his answer, Smellerbee lapses back into watchful silence.

Jet wishes he could just stop thinking so much. He pulls the blanket closer around his shoulders. Below them, Longshot and Sho are sleeping on the same side of the campfire for warmth- Sho’s warmth, that he emits by merely breathing.

Jet never knew firebenders could do that, but he’s never known any firebenders beyond scant seconds in the heat of battle. He wonders how many cold nights Sho suffered through before he learned this trick, and now they also benefit from it.

Despite his wishes, Jet doesn’t stop thinking until his watch is over and it’s his turn to rest again.

-

“Finally,” Sho remarks with so much exasperated relief that Jet sits up from his late afternoon sprawl in the shade. Up high, Sho catches his eye and bares a grin. He looks back out to the desert and points. “Sand sailer.”

Jet doesn’t know what that means, but he climbs to his feet next to Longshot and squints out into the bright desert. From his vantage point, he doesn’t see much more than a cloud of dust in the middle distance. It’s already more than any of them have seen in the two weeks spent skirting the desert’s edge. 

Longshot scales Smellerbee’s tree to get a better look and Jet decides to do the same. Sho squats and offers a hand when Jet climbs high enough to reach his perch. Jet latches on and lets Sho help pull him up.

“They’re angled east, ahead of us,” Sho explains, and Jet shifts to peer over his shoulder to better follow Sho’s eye line as he predicts the sand sailer’s progress. 

From his best estimate, Jet thinks they could make the distance and projected stopping point by tonight, if they left now. He’s impatient to get started; sick and tired of being hot and always thirsty and perpetually tasting sand in everything.

Jet claps Sho on the shoulder with approval. “Let’s go get some answers finally.”

-

They find a campsite, with tents the color of sand and their wooden sailers pushed up to the trees. 

By Sho’s best estimate, the sandbenders’ camp is just past the second gap in the trees on the map of the desert’s northernmost edge. Jet and his squad could’ve gotten here in only one week’s time if they hadn’t been stopping so much to wait for a sign of living people for half the days. Jet stifles his irritation as best he can. That plan had still worked and is why they knew where to go with certainty earlier today.

If these people aren’t willing to help, or have no helpful information at all, however, Jet may just scream for the catharticism. 

Neither Jet nor Sho had much liked approaching potential slavers directly, especially out of the dark, but Smellerbee had put her foot down.

“I’m not spending another month out here because they don’t trust us, because they saw us skulking around, or if they take off on their weird boats,” She’d pointed out during the discussion on the way over. “We’re supposed to be refugees. Act like it, and if something does go wrong, they won’t expect what we can really do.”

Jet has to admit, there’s merit to the straightforward approach. 

A pair of guards on the edge of camp spot their small group near immediately, calling out a warning to the rest of the camp, but not otherwise seeming too aggressive. There’s something to be said for actually being a bunch of travel worn kids.

Jet stops a safe distance away and peaceably holds up his hands. It’d been agreed that he’ll do the most talking. Sho would rather not draw attention to himself any more than necessary, in case the tribe despises Fire Nation as much as the rest of the Kingdom. Longshot is guarding Sho’s left side, just in case.

“What’s your business?” One of the guards demands. Wrapped up so completely as they are, they’re inscrutable from one another and equally faceless.

Jet keeps his palms up and arms loose, smiling harmlessly. “We’re just refugees looking for some help. We got turned away from the ferry to Ba Sing Se because we have no passports.”

He takes care that the smile dips with disappointment and exhaustion. “We heard from one family that a tribe of sandbenders helped them get papers, so here we are.”

Sho had advised against mentioning the name Hami directly, in case it alienated them from who they _had_ found. 

The guards confer with each other quietly, then with a third man who came from further in the camp. The latter leaves as soon as he came, presumably to relay word to someone else up the chain of command on what to do with their sudden guests.

Jet lets his arms drop, all the better to seem like a clueless refugee. He feels bizarre without his armor pieces, shirt untucked like the loose fabric isn’t a hazard in a fight. At least he still has his tigerheads. To be totally unarmed would be more suspicious than anything else. Jet makes a point to fidget while they wait for a response, but is also careful not to overplay himself.

After a few minutes longer, Smellerbee huffs a wordless complaint and flops down, almost as tired as she’s pretending to be. Her movement doesn’t draw more than a glance- no offers for aid, but no reprimands either. Just a weary, impatient child; underestimated.

Nervous, Jet turns to his companions for reassurance- checks that Longshot hasn’t spied any threats and that Sho’s tension isn’t going to give them away. Longshot’s eyes say clear. Sho’s eyes are memorizing bodies, symbols; anything distinct that can be used to identify and then to hunt.

Jet faces forward again, both settled and entirely not. It won’t come to that.

The man from earlier returns at last. “Follow me,” He instructs.

Jet exaggerates his relieved grin and makes a show of helping Smellerbee get up. She squeezes a number of her own observations onto his wrist as they walk, but nothing dangerous.

It feels exactly like walking into a steel trap though, knowing the whole time that you’re the bait. He wonders how fast the tarps and sails would catch flame if Sho decided that route was necessary. A firebender burning things to help them for once.

Their guide leaves them at a tent larger than the rest. Jet recognizes authority when it’s obvious. A graying older man is seated on a dusty blue cushion inside the canvas. He doesn’t stand to greet them. Another younger man is already standing at his back, prepared to act in his stead.

“Sit,” The leader commands, and Jet forces his legs to fold easily onto the sand strewn wry grass. 

“Thanks for meeting with us, sir,” Jet offers, less meek than with the outer guards but still clueless enough to miss the obvious attempt at a power play.

Longshot and Smellerbee sit at his flank. Sho doesn’t.

The leader looks past Jet and up at Sho appraisingly, weighing whether this defiance is worth addressing. It’s not as much of an act as Jet wants it to be when he also turns to look at Sho.

This hadn’t been part of the plan.

Jet pats the ground, deliberate and pointed. “C’mon and sit. Y’know you’re tired.” His voice is perfectly casual. Sit down you stubborn-

Sho folds down into a position that’s all too clear he’s ready to leap up at a second’s notice. For someone who hadn’t wanted to draw attention to himself, he’s doing _great_. 

Jet turns around, pretending not to have noticed anything amiss. The leader’s looking at him differently now somehow, subtly. Jet keeps his smile polite.

“My name is Graw. I lead this tribe,” The eldest man in this tent states. “My man tells me you four seek passports for Ba Sing Se.”

Jet nods eagerly. “Yessir. Our villages burned down, you see. We don’t have anything.”

The same story of a thousand different refugees, but still always true. Of course Graw doesn’t question that.

“Of course,” He agrees simply. “What do you have to trade for these passports?”

Jet can’t fake a blush- his complexion usually covers for that- but he can act sheepish. “I mean, we have _some_ things. A little money. Some stuff we picked up on the way here.”

As much money as they can spare without hurting themselves and some trophies from the bandits’ stash. He won’t be the first one to show his hand.

“Of course,” Graw repeats. His eyes stray past Jet. “A coal child in Ba Sing Se. Surely wouldn’t be the first.”

Jet’s smile turns purposefully stiff. “Don’t call him that. He’s one of ours, not theirs.”

Graw’s eyes come back to Jet, wearing that different expression again. “I see. I meant no offense, of course.”

“Of course,” Jet echoes, still baring his teeth winningly.

Graw’s brow subtly raises, finally allowing Jet to place the expression: approval.

Jet decides to take a risk and drop the harmless act a little further. “How do we get those passports of yours? I mean no offense, but do you carry around a paper press all the time?”

Graw smiles privately. “A template is easily replicated with the right eyes and hand. Paper is not so hard to come by as one might think.”

“That’s good to hear,” Jet acknowledges the reply with the most sincerity so far. “What’re you asking for us to give in exchange?”

“Names. For the passports, of course, but I prefer to do business with real people,” Graw answers and well, that answers something else too.

Jet grins again, real enough to make Graw’s guard stiffen up in alarm. At his back, Sho reads the air so well that he’s stood to match the guard’s slight movement.

Graw wears his approval openly now, holding up a hand to keep his man in place.

“My name’s Jet. Nice to meet you, Graw,” Jet introduces himself, glad to cut straight to the bone. He nods behind himself. “That’s Sho. As you can understand, he doesn’t trust easily. My others are Longshot and Smellerbee. As I understand it, three of those names won’t look so great on paper.”

Graw’s man settles back reluctantly and Graw allows his hand to drop. Sho remains standing.

“You heard correctly, but now we can do business. A passport is worth forty silvers each. Other items of equal worth may be considered.”

They definitely don’t have that much and Jet doesn’t know enough to haggle well. If he turns the bargaining over to Sho, however, Jet instinctively knows that he’ll lose the respect he’s somehow gained. Jet’s been recognized as the authority to deal with, so he squares up and does his damn best.

“You honestly expect us to have a gold piece?” He makes an effort not to scoff _too_ dismissively. “I would’ve saved us the trouble and just bribed someone if I had that much.”

It’s not a wrong response, judging by Graw’s expression.

“How many silvers do you have then?”

“Not enough,” Jet states flatly, and senses movement at his back. Without thinking or looking, Jet holds his hand up and back like he’s expecting something.

Sho promptly places a pouch in his reaching hand. Jet hides his surprise and acts like he’d expected it all along, drawing the pouch back to his front to find that Sho has handed him the bag of jewelry from the bandits’ hoard.

Graw seems subtly impressed. What exactly kind of power play is this? Jet saves the mystery to be puzzled out later, focused on maintaining his image.

“We cleared up a bit of trouble on the way here,” Jet shares, half in explanation and half in carefully phrased warning as he fishes out a particularly sparkly bracelet and makes a point of scowling at it. “Waste of resources if you ask me, but I hear nobles will buy almost anything just because they can.”

He drops the bracelet back into the bag, allowing Graw’s mind to assume what else it contains. Graw does look interested, and noticeably doesn’t correct Jet’s assumption on the noble class he actually knows nothing about. Jet had taken another risk there, gambling that the sandbenders cared enough about pretty jewelry to find them worth trading. Back home, Jet never would’ve accepted trade for anything that didn’t serve a purpose. Out here, however, money has value to a nomadic tribe. 

Furthermore, Jet allowed Graw to know that _he_ doesn’t value the jewelry. That will make the items seem worth more, handled by someone who doesn’t know their true value. Truthfully, Jet doesn’t want to deal with the risk of hawking the jewelry to merchants in the Earth Kingdom proper, who might recognize it as stolen. Graw, however, doesn’t need to care about whether the jewelry is twice stolen or not, since his trade is for forged passports in the first place. 

In spite of his apparent luck so far at this new game of negotiation, Jet doesn’t like it much. It’s like feinting in a fight, but verbally. The body language is equally important, but he doesn’t know these motions nearly so familiarly. It’s not as down to the bone as he’d hoped. He wonders how Sho knows this game as well.

Before the verbal match can continue, however, Graw’s man leans down to whisper something to the leader.

“Ah, you’re right. It is getting late. You are of course welcome to stay with us as guests for the night. We can resume in the morning, when there is light to see the value of your trade, and the papers.”

Never mind the torch light already filling the tent, or the campfires scattered among the tents. Jet’s still fully aware of the trap’s teeth. He doesn’t want to accept sleeping among potential enemies but he also doesn’t know the unsaid rules to this bullshit. How does he refuse without losing what he’s gained?

Sho whistles a soft command. Press forward.

Graw’s eyes are drawn curiously to the noise, allowing Jet precious seconds to parse out the hint. Does Sho want him to accept the invitation? Jet decides to trust him.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Graw. It’ll be good to sleep out of the dirt again.”

Graw’s gaze pulls back to Jet’s reply, and there’s approval again. He _had_ been meant to accept. Sho wouldn’t have agreed to a trap. Does that mean it might be safe?

“This is Yhul,” Graw finally introduces his guard. “He will show you where you’ll be staying for the night.”

Yhul looks rather sour at the instruction but he obeys, gesturing for Jet and his entourage to follow. Graw doesn’t seem to be expecting any parting words, so Jet carefully doesn’t offer any.

Smellerbee looks very tightly wound, but she’d followed what remained of the plan and hasn’t said a word. Longshot had no issues. Sho steps aside to let first Yhul pass, and then holds that position until Jet walks before him too.

Jet wants answers as soon as it’s private enough to demand them.

Yhul leads them through the camp silently, thankfully more towards the edge of their people and furthest from the desert. It’s strategic for the sandbenders to have the desert at their backs, but it’s also unknowingly favorable to Jet’s people, with _their_ backs to the trees. Jet couldn’t have planned it better.

Another tribesman assists Yhul in setting up another tent, and then they both leave their guests to it without a single word spared.

Jet ushers everyone else inside first, checking that no one of the tribe is too close. From the looks he gets in return, the mistrust is mutual, but still, there’s no aggression. Cautiously optimistic, Jet thinks it may honestly be safe here. They’re still going to have someone on watch through the night though.

“What the hell was that?” Smellerbee’s hissing as soon as Jet ducks into the tent.

“ _That_ was politics,” Sho responds with a grimace, willingly giving the answer away.

“I don’t like it,” Jet shares dryly.

Sho smirks. “Me either. You handled yourself well though. You impressed him.”

“I noticed. How exactly is what I don’t get,” Jet admits, wearily rubbing his face and feeling the grit of sand. He’s so ready to leave this damn place behind for good.

“Sorry, I know that wasn’t the plan,” Sho offers contritely. “I took a chance and called his power play. When you stepped up to show you could control me, you caught his interest.”

Is that what he’d been doing? Showing Graw that Jet had control over a coal child- a probable firebender?

“No, you made the right call,” Jet allows, because in spite of his confusion over the politics, he does know it worked out in their favor. “I’d appreciate more of a warning next time though.”

“Noted,” Sho remarks. “Here, let me sort out what’s worth forty silvers for tomorrow. The rest you can use to haggle out anything else.”

Jet gives him the bag of jewelry back easily. He has half a mind to arrange the watch and just go to sleep first, but if he’s doing all this politic shit over in the morning, then he needs more tips.

Jet sighs. “Show me what to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some growth, some bonding, some realizations, and some progress towards BSS. Jet’s consciously making more of an effort, but hasn’t quite escaped his old traps just yet. I’d explain the implications behind some of Zuko-Sho’s knowledge, but that’d defeat the point of wondering what the fuck he’s been through, so I’ll leave it up to the readers to assume just where he’s maybe gone and who he’s met on their own.
> 
> Expect the next chapter next Wed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: murder and implied torture. Things get heavy and Zuko-Sho has a bad time. 
> 
> [map](https://external-preview.redd.it/D6COo3YmmcBYv5zwCHMdZO4kUjpczWZjNc-Td7cHH20.jpg?auto=webp&s=96e43204a9d64cee57ed9b0acda8f2e05106c180)

Politics, as it turns out, is little more than the bluffing, obfuscating the truth, and the careful portrayal of weakness that Jet is well used to controlling as leader of the freedom fighters. It’s how he so easily got Katara and Aang to fill the reservoir in spite of Sokka’s suspicions. It’s no surprise that he’s a natural at it, now that he knows it has a name and learned its unspoken rules.

His distaste for it stems from his own disadvantages, rather than the practice itself. Graw held the superior position and had the leverage, as well as the resources Jet needed and the manpower to enforce Graw’s demands. 

Sho’s advice helped the following morning’s negotiation immensely, but Jet disliked having to need it at all. It’s clear his issue with authority that outstrips his own is equal across all spheres of experience. In the end, however, Jet reminds himself that at least Graw’s greater power over him is temporary and negligible. 

They’re extracting a trade of goods and services, not asking permission to stay and join the tribe. Jet can’t get his hackles up over every business transaction. Leaving the forest continues to teach him that he’d grown far too comfortable in his position as an unquestionable leader.

Sho’s experience with trade and politics is to Jet’s benefit, not a threat. It’ll stick in his brain eventually with enough reminders.

Graw doesn’t clarify whether his tribe or any of its members goes by the name Hami, which makes a general sort of sense because Jet doesn’t ask. It no longer matters anyway, so long as Jet gets passports from _someone_ and they have the option available now. 

Jewelry purse thinned but not depleted, Graw proves true to his word and reveals green papers with sandstone colored borders and ostentatious emerald tassels. Jet takes the blank passports in appraisal, although he’s hardly in a position to ascertain authenticity himself. Holding them aloft is really just for Sho’s eyes, standing silently at Jet’s shoulder to mirror Yhul’s position still.

They’d agreed beforehand not to repeat an audible signal, lest Graw became suspicious of any underhanded dealing. Upon Sho’s total lack of reaction, Jet nods with approval and lays the official papers down flat. He gives Graw the names that his scribe will have to write down before the passports have any true value.

It’ll take time for the calligraphy to be convincingly forged, and so Graw extends his invitation until the ink has dried. Jet accepts, of course.

As it also turns out, the reason why the tribe camps here is for the source of water. It’s a hidden well, guarded by a pair of men to prevent sabotage, but not otherwise restricted with who gets to pull up water. With the resource readily available and new frustrations to work out, Jet finally gets to ask Sho for that spar.

“Rules of conduct?” Sho asks, which is a fair more positive answer than a rejection as he limbers up in preparation.

“No blood, stop at yield,” Jet returns while he also stretches, giving Sho the same terms he’d offer any of his fighters. It’s all they’ve ever needed, because there’s little point to practice if your opponent holds back. There’s trust not to legitimately hurt one another, but his kids were trained not to stop until yield or the threat is gone.

Jet taught them to survive, and he hopes those lessons outlived his presence in their lives.

Sho merely nods, accepting the simple terms. Longshot positions himself to watch their backs from the tribe, and Smellerbee faces them like she’s preparing to referee. Maybe she doesn’t trust either of them not to go too far, or maybe she just wants to learn from their movements. 

Jet’s still learning not to assume the worst or give in to his frustrating doubts. Two weeks isn’t enough time to get used to all the new habits and self-reflection. Jet just wants to stop thinking.

He grips his tigerheads at the ready, eager.

Sho twirls his dao flashily but into a ready stance that implies formal training, more than that betting scrap had shown back at the ferry dock. He’d said as much then, too.

Jet lunges forward to test Sho, to test himself against another warrior with a sword in each hand. 

They’re both slow and cautious enough at first, learning how their swords and techniques are different, and then the speed steadily increases from there.

It’s exhilarating: the ring of steel, the rasp of breath, and the pleasant burn of muscles straining. It’s all reflex and bare restraint. It’s thrilling to meet someone in combat who can match Jet, who can challenge him to push his limits and teach him how to be better or suffer the bruises.

Jet’s hook rips one of Sho’s dao from his hand, and Sho doesn’t hesitate to take that bare hand and strike out at Jet’s exposed side. It’s an open palm again, and Jet knows he’s lost this bout even though Sho scarcely knocked the air out of him. With fire or by chi, Sho could’ve scarred Jet’s flesh or broke his ribs with that hit.

Jet grits his teeth and disengages. “Yield. Go again.”

Sho looks at him oddly for a moment, but retrieves his sword and readies his stance again. Jet won’t forget twice that disarming Sho doesn’t diminish the threat in the slightest.

He breathes, and he fights.

Survive without fear. Thrive without guilt. Live without shame. Love without grief. Speak without lies. Don’t blind or deafen yourself. Let go.

Sho makes a startled noise of surprise as Jet’s next strike hits his block and continues, knocking him off balance. Truthfully, Jet is also surprised by the sudden surge of strength, but he does not relent. He takes advantage and completes Sho’s fall.

“Yield,” Sho says even while rolling backwards to his feet. He’s grinning. “How’s that for results?”

Jet blinks and looks down at his hands. He’d used his chi? Is that how it feels?

“Again,” He demands, determined to replicate the feat now that he’s finally managed it.

Still wearing his pleased expression, Sho sinks once more into his starting stance. As both times before, Jet strikes out first.

He loses again when Sho changes to more deflections than blocks, one causing Jet to overextend too far to recover in time to avoid a dao to the neck. Brute force has never been Jet’s style anyhow. He needs to control the bursts of strength at precise moments, not hold it constantly.

Some point after Sho yields for his own second loss, wheezing from the knee Jet drove into his solar plexus, Jet realizes their sparring has drawn a small audience. Part of Jet wants to call it to an end, unwilling to give away more of their skill and totally lose the element of surprise if things turn sour. Another part, a piece that Jet’s started to recognize as political, goads him to continue.

Let potential enemies see his strength, and the strength of his ally. In their eyes, Sho cedes to Jet’s authority. This display strengthens Jet’s ability to lead. It’ll be an encouragement not to cross Jet.

By unspoken agreement, Jet and Sho slow their movements again, no longer aiming to win as quickly as possible. It’s a show for the tribe but also the freedom of opportunity to learn from each other without outside risk interfering.

Sho learns how the hooked ends of Jet’s tigerheads make every point of contact a second risk. Jet learns that Sho’s left side is definitely not a weakness, at least while in melee range.

Jet’s weapons were built for diversity, unpredictability; the ability to rip and disarm over the widely known stabs and slashes of straight swords. Sho’s dao are a constant half of a single weapon; fluidity, one attacking and one guarding, switching seamlessly and able to block and deflect equally well.

They each learn that steel weapons aren’t the extent of each other’s reach. Jet uses his tigerheads as a launching point to kick out and gain height or momentum. His ribs are going to be littered with bruises from Sho’s palm strikes.

Even knowing they’re coming, Sho still manages to be quick enough to slip under Jet’s guard. Jet practically invites the bare handed blows because Sho hasn’t yet figured out how to keep Jet from disarming him. Either he holds on and overextends to leave himself open to Jet’s second sword, or he lets go and attacks simultaneously into the gap Jet leaves behind on himself when flinging one dao aside.

It’s a mutual problem to be solved.

“Yield,” Sho concedes first, at last. Long strands of ebony have escaped his high bun, and they plaster to his face and neck as Sho wipes sweat off his forehead with grimace.

Jet accepts the end of their practice, similarly and thoroughly overheated. 

No one stops them from hauling a bucket up from the well to guzzle thirstily and rinse off the worst of the sweat briskly. 

Jet’s pleased with how well he held his own, until he recalls that Sho’s still a firebender. All those open strikes to Jet’s body could’ve spelled death, never mind how else Sho could intermingle flames with flashing steel. Sho may claim not to be a good firebender, but less control only means more dangerous when it comes to fire. Jet firmly reminds himself that Sho is an ally before his good mood completely sours. Jet won’t be burned by him, so there’s no point to fearing the possibility.

Sho ties up his hair again, countless scars stretching across his bare back and arms while he does. Jet wonders how many were fatal, and which ones Sho survived to recover naturally. Another question for the box. Sho pulls his shirt back on.

Smellerbee starts demanding another lesson on chi manipulation, all the more eager to learn now that she’s seen Jet manage it. Sho obliges patiently.

Jet takes advantage of his ability to sleep in the day and lays down in the shade for a nap, trusting that Longshot has the guard handled and that the Si Wong tribe is not an enemy.

-

Minted passports in hand, resupplied by further trade with Graw’s merchants for what they were willing to part with for the rest of the jewelry, the discussion now turns to the route back to Ba Sing Se. As has become custom for these talks, the four of them gather around Sho’s map.

“I’m sick of the desert.” Smellerbee makes her case to go north and follow the wide river back to the ferry waystation over going back the way they came. “I want grass and water again.”

No one disagrees with that opinion.

“It’s not far out of the way to check the pass once we get back in that area,” Sho mentions, not needing to point. “We can pick up more stuff to trade for money at the waystation.”

Holding true to Jet’s threat towards those Kingdom bandits goes unspoken, but heard regardless. Considering his reaction to the incident had been to fall down with fever, Jet’s uncertain on his position for the matter. He doesn’t want a repeat performance.

Longshot supports both Smellerbee and Sho’s statements by tracing a route that follows the water, cuts back to the pass from an eastern position, and then completes at the waystation from there. Smellerbee doesn’t protest checking that the pass is clear. Jet supposes that’s decided then.

“We’ll go north, then west. We’ll pick up some more stuff at the pass. We’ll need all the money we can get in Ba Sing Se.”

Sho nods. He has a bruise on his jawline on his left side from where Jet hit him during one of their spars. Jet has to sleep flat on his back because his ribs ache with any other position.

The map gets rolled up and put back into Sho’s pack.

Jet gets up to say their final goodbyes to Graw.

-

“Water!” Smellerbee shrieks, taking a running leap into the river like a body bomb.

“Mind the current!” Sho yells after her, though he’s had his eyes covered since Smellerbee started frantically stripping clothes as soon as the coast was determined to be clear.

Jet’s amused by the reaction. Privacy has always been too rare to be worth a damn, though he supposes Sho wouldn’t be so used to living in each other’s pockets like the rest of them have lived with for years. 

Besides, it’s a certain sign that Smellerbee trusts Sho enough now to be unarmed and almost naked while he’s around. Longshot mercifully guides Sho to a spot where it’s safe to open his eyes and not catch a peek of Smellerbee’s splashing. Sho wordlessly squeezes the archer’s elbow in thanks. That’s another sign of just how far they’ve all come in only three weeks.

Almost one whole month since Jet knew that the Avatar’s alive, and used him to nearly kill a hundred or so people. Jet woke up this morning to find Sho meditating with the sun, a tiny flame cupped in his hands, and his first response had been to be glad that Sho was bending again. His immediate reaction after that had been conflicted, but it matters that Jet hadn’t attacked blindly out of hate and rage. Smellerbee had already been awake, and she hadn’t batted an eye at Sho’s fire either.

They trusted him. That made the difference.

They trade off watch so everyone gets to bathe. Fully submerging in cold water after two straight weeks of relentless arid heat feels like a legitimate spirit blessing. Jet gladly takes the time to wash away every single grain of sand.

Sho combs out his wet hair and then starts to dry it between his hands with another of his flameless heating tricks. Its glossy length tumbles past his shoulder blades, making a long tail down his spine once he’s braided it.

Jet’s never seen anyone else with such long hair, save Katara. He’s certainly never watched anyone care for it either. He’s definitely never cared that much about _his_ hair; only that it’s short enough to stay out of his eyes- short enough that no one can grab him by it without getting close enough to stab.

Smellerbee and almost all of his other kids had followed Jet’s lead and advice, keeping their hair short or tied back. Before Katara and before Sho, Jet only had memories and Longshot to think of hair longer than a bob. Longshot’s dark hair brushes his shoulders when he rarely lets it down, just long enough to keep pulled up in a short tail. It didn’t matter then and it doesn’t matter still.

Jet’s not sure why he’s even wasting time thinking about hair again.

Sho builds and tends to the fire for their dinner, and Jet hadn’t noticed him summon the first lick of flame at all. Jet reminds his brain _again_ that it doesn’t matter. He’s not growing weak or complacent. He’d meant what he’d said to Graw, after the tribe leader had called Sho a coal child.

Sho may be Fire, but he doesn’t belong to them _._ He hasn’t for a long time, and maybe he never will be again. Sho isn’t Earth either, but he could be, maybe. _Ours_ is what Jet had said.

At the time, he’d only meant that Sho was an ally, and that fact was not to be disputed by a war child slur and Fire features. Now, maybe Jet means it as the word actually defines. 

It’s not a claim he could make alone, however. Smellerbee, Longshot, and Sho would all need to confirm that for themselves. Trust goes a long way, but not that far. Sho is coming to Ba Sing Se with them. After that, if he decides to stay with them in the city, then Jet will pose the question aloud for them all to consider. 

For now, Jet puts the question aside- not in the mental box with the rest of unasked questions, but adjacent. 

Away from the desert, with the only nearby Si Wong tribe tentative allies, they can return to a single watch at night. It’s still arranged that Sho’s one of the first to sleep. He has the dawn covered. It just makes sense since he’s going to be awake regardless.

-

They’ve been mindful of Sho’s triggers, few as he’d confessed, because no one wants a fist full of fire to the face- or to get stabbed, or have bones broken by a chi-strike. Sho’s just too dangerous to risk touching without mindfulness.

There’s no reason to ever reach for his face directly, and if they need to get his attention quietly, they avoid grabbing his wrists. When Sho has a nightmare, no one shakes him awake. He wakes by voice or on his own. At the ferry waystation, he’d handled his phobia of being underground well on his own, and on the return trip, they can all be more mindful of his claustrophobia about it.

Point being, Jet doesn’t know what sets Sho off this time.

Last time it had been a question (whether Sho hated his own people) and they’d gotten off lucky with just a glimpse of the wrath Sho kept stoked beneath the surface. No injuries, and Sho had controlled his temper quickly and cleanly. This isn’t like that.

There’d been neither question nor conversation at all. By some unnoticed, unannounced trigger, Sho slips _hard_ and abrupt. Initially, Jet doesn’t know Sho’s even been triggered.

It starts at the steel rasp of a sword being drawn. At the mere sound, Jet and his fighters immediately also arm themselves, preparing to defend from whatever threat Sho sighted. Sho, however, gives no signal or any sign that he even remembers them at all. He’s already dropped his pack and sprinted into the trees, bent low and intent, dao splayed and aggressively pointed forward.

“Bee, stay. Shot, with me,” Jet commands on sheer instinct, dropping his pack to race after Sho. He hears Longshot do the same and follow at his heels. He knows Smellerbee will be peeved to be left behind, but she’ll know to guard their supplies.

It’s not a long chase, for either of them, but also not short enough to immediately see how _Sho_ had glimpsed these people from between the trees, from the riverside. What’s more instantly concerning is how Sho breaks upon this group with a previously unseen ferocity. He cuts down one man brutally from behind before _anyone_ realizes that was the threat.

Chaos erupts as the rest scramble to defend themselves from the sudden attack.

Still heeding his instinct, Jet whistles for Longshot to keep his distance and disarm only. As for himself, something urges Jet to stay well out of Sho’s warpath. He circles wide, lashing out at anyone who takes a swipe at him, but primarily serving as a deterrent to keep anyone from escaping. He yanks weapons away and puts people on their knees, always hyperaware of Longshot’s whistling arrows and Sho’s feral snarling.

It’s not two minutes past when the entire group is either subdued or dead. Sho seems to realize that in some capacity when there’s no one left to attack, or attacking him. He spins in place as if looking for something, and it’s around that point that Jet realizes Sho has snapped.

“Where is he?!” Sho roars, looking and sounding utterly unrestrained. Blood has splattered across his front, up to and onto his scar. His swords waver with heat. He’s terrifying to look upon.

The survivors see it too, and a few are distinctly more horrified than others.

“Y-you’re d-d-dead,” One stutters while another begins frantically praying, and Jet puts the two pieces together.

Someone here has killed Sho before.

Jet angles behind a tree to take himself out of the collateral damage range, and whistles for Longshot to similarly take cover. Sho jerks at the sound, like maybe some part of him recognizes the signal, or maybe all he hears right now is another threat. Jet holds himself _very_ still as blazing yellow eyes lock onto him. He keeps his body language loose and passive, tigerheads pointed to the ground. Sho’s eyes flit over Jet without recognition, and then dismiss him.

He doesn’t match, Jet realizes. This group, cut down from a dozen, are all wearing unaffiliated monotone- black, gray, or white. Relatively uniform, easy to relate together at a glance. Jet’s never been so profoundly glad to be wearing mismatched armor and color, even red. Longshot will also be safe, in blue and red.

“Where is he?” Sho demands again, pacing around his hostages, an unchained predator scarcely contained by his own skin.

“W-who?”

The person who dared provide question is ruthlessly beheaded. No pause, nor thought; just feral impatience and the rise of a snarling shriek in Sho’s throat.

This is more than just a bad trigger, Jet realizes with growing alarm and dread. Sho is well and wholly caught in a waking nightmare, in a time before the freedom fighters ever existed for him.

“He was here!” Another stranger in shades of gray desperately divulges. “I-I don’t see him but I swear he was just here! Please, oh spirit, have mercy, please don’t-”

Sho’s dao cuts down another life to the sound of terrified screams at his mercilessness.

“Mercy?” He echoes, barking an ugly sound of desolate rage. “Where was _my_ mercy, Guan-Yan?! Show yourself!”

As the remaining survivors grow more panicked, Jet’s mind races for a solution. Sho will not stop, will not come back to the true present until this Guan-Yan is found. If he was just here and isn’t among the living, then that leaves the dead. Could Sho have already killed his target without realizing? Unless…

Jet braces himself and whistles to Longshot again. Watch the runner.

Sho’s eyes snap to Jet again, then away to Longshot in a terrifying second when the archer steps from his place to flip over the nearest body. Sho takes that in, then jerks back to Jet again with some reptilian awareness in that yellow glare. 

“He has a scar, here,” Sho shares to his allies, sharply gesturing a thumb at an angle through his right (and only) eyebrow.

Jet nods, and then carefully looks down to appraise another corpse. Dead eyes stare back, but without a scarred brow. He moves on, and that’s when Guan-Yan’s nerve breaks.

 _Coward,_ Jet thinks as Longshot’s arrow sinks into the back of one knee to bring Guan-Yan’s flight to a fall. Pretending to be dead while his men were being executed, hoping he’d be overlooked and spared. 

Guan-Yan doesn’t even have the time to crawl before Sho is on his back, crushing him to the dirt. Predator distracted, the other prey make an aborted attempt to flee. Jet steps up to take Sho’s place, making it clear that there is no escape here.

Jet doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like Sho being lost to a waking nightmare, nor Sho’s ruthless ferocity while embedded in it. He doesn’t like it, but he understands blind revenge. He also understands that on some level, Sho recognizes that Jet and Longshot are allies in this slaughter. 

Jet will do what it takes to keep them in that tenuously safe position in Sho’s fractured mind, regardless if the hostages are innocent or share in Guan-Yan’s guilt. If Sho is one of theirs, then he has their support against his enemies. In his own mind, Jet admits that the group’s lack of distinguished color makes participating in their deaths easier.

They could be anyone, but Jet trusts Sho’s judgment even like this. As someone who forgave Jet for ripping out his throat, Sho wouldn’t be acting like _this_ if Guan-Yan hadn’t done something utterly unforgivable.

Stricken with fear, the scarce three members of this group still breathing subside anxiously to Jet’s custody. They’ve already seen what happens when someone attempts to run. No one speaks, all unwilling to draw Sho’s attention back.

Jet keeps his eyes on the hostages, listening to Sho hiss indistinguishable venom and Guan-Yan’s near wordless whimpers in response. He’s glad not to watch. Jet has killed, tortured, and done terrible things to Fire Nation soldiers. He doesn’t need Sho’s distinct absence of mercy added to his already full nightmares.

Longshot is in his peripheral, watchful but also facing in the opposite direction of Guan-Yan’s increasingly panicked pleas. 

Sho decapitated, dismembered, and bisected those who hadn’t been his target. Guan-Yan’s punishment will not be so swift.

If Jet were a better person, maybe he would let the hostages flee, but maybe they’re complicit to Guan-Yan’s affront and Sho wants his pound of flesh from them all. If Jet cared more about strangers than Longshot, maybe he would’ve risked Sho’s unhinged fury to convince him to just execute Guan-Yan and be done with it, but he starkly doesn’t. 

It’s not Jet’s place to tell Sho how to punish his murderers. Who could, especially when the extent of Sho’s trauma is a sheer unknown? Guan-Yan could deserve this. He could deserve _worse_.

It’s not safe to ask, to be sure. Jet and Longshot must remain allies in Sho’s nightmare, or risk adding to it.

When Guan-Yan starts to scream, Jet whistles to send Longshot to intercept Smellerbee. Hearing that, nothing could keep her back at the riverside, but she doesn’t need to see any more torture. His fighters will wait at a distance until Jet gives another signal.

One of the three survivors attempts to run in fright, at the absence of the archer. Jet hooks their shirt and flings them back down to the ground. The other two clutch at each other in pallid shock, hardly with the nerve to breathe too loudly.

Maybe there’s something broken in Jet that he feels no sympathy for their plight. He doesn’t know enough to care. He hadn’t known enough about the civilians in Gaipan to care about drowning them. 

Is this different? It’s not Jet’s call to make.

He stands over three cowering adults and listens to Guan-Yan’s screams taper off into strangled gurgles. He does not look at Sho. He does not attempt to intervene. Maybe he should. He won’t.

Is that wrong?

Sho’s torturing someone to death, someone who may have tortured _him_ to death. There _is no_ comparable scenario. Only Sho has the right and ability to mete out justice like this.

The Avatar- any of them- doesn’t have that power. When _they_ die, their reincarnation doesn’t have to live with the scars and memories of their past lives. Sho doesn’t have that luxury. _No one_ can tell him that he shouldn’t murder his murderers.

It’s impossible not to hear when Sho finally speaks clearly, calmly; loud enough to be heard over Guan-Yan’s death rattles.

“Where’s your fight now, little firefly?” His voice is a twisted thing of mockery, the words a blatant, cruel echo from another’s mouth. “Not even Koh would take your face, but say hello to him from me, would you?”

If it’s Guan-Yan’s words that Sho is taunting the man with in his final moments, a reciprocation of what _he’d_ heard, then Jet feels certain in his inaction. 

He doesn’t hear Guan-Yan’s last breath over the hostages’ anguished sobbing. Jet holds very, _very_ still as Sho steps past his side like the vengeful specter that the survivors view him as. He continues to stay motionless as Sho efficiently and cleanly executes the three adults Jet held in place for him.

None of them had had any mental strength left to resist or flee. They hadn’t even looked up.

Jet looks up as Sho steps in front of him. The blood on his scar has dried, but it’s been joined by a fine spray of red still wet enough to shine. There’s a confused pinch to his brow.

“Where’s your archer?” Sho asks, calm and nonconfrontational, a stranger in familiar skin. There’s something struggling in the depths of his eyes now that the unfettered fury is satisfied and absent.

Jet risks honesty. “Longshot went to intercept Smellerbee.”

The pinched look deepens to one of pain, memories rising through the clinging remnants of the waking nightmare. 

Jet stands patiently, still. He watches Sho come back, one piece at a time; every cascading realization of what happened. He is _Sho_ again, not the feral specter of a boy who knew from how many deaths ago, when he sighs achingly heavy and looks down at his blood marred hands.

“I didn’t expect to find him here,” He says, his voice tattered from strain.

“I figured,” Jet returns, and then slowly holsters his swords at his waist.

Sho’s world weary eyes lift to watch him. He seems too exhausted to know what to do next. Jet can do that for him.

“Let’s get you washed up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t say what kind of bad time Zuko-Sho would have. Waking nightmare is a term I’ve read in other atla fics to use an in-universe term for PTSD or its trauma equivalent. Zuko-Sho has been through some Shit and he is Not Okay. Jet understands that more than he wants to.
> 
> Another Wed. gets another chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time we should need the [map](https://external-preview.redd.it/D6COo3YmmcBYv5zwCHMdZO4kUjpczWZjNc-Td7cHH20.jpg?auto=webp&s=96e43204a9d64cee57ed9b0acda8f2e05106c180) for a while.
> 
> We're almost to 100 kudos! Thx all! <3

The water has run clear by now, but still Sho makes no movement. Jet strips down to his shorts and wades out to him. Sho is still fully dressed, kneeling mostly submerged in the river. He hasn’t spoken since admitting that he hadn’t expected to find Guan-Yan here.

Jet doesn’t know what to say to him. None of what happened was okay. He only knows how to _do_.

“Wash your face,” Jet instructs, carefully kneeling down nearby in the cold water, consciously on Sho’s good side and out of arms reach. “You’ve got blood all over it.”

Sho blinks like the lids of his eyes have tangible weight, and then he mechanically cups water in his hands and does as he’s told. 

Jet leans back a little, appraising Sho’s hair. It looks like it’d escaped the bloodbath unscathed, wrapped high in a bun. It hadn’t even budged much at all. At least Sho doesn’t have to clean his stupidly long hair. Jet sits forward again.

“Take off your clothes so we can wash them,” He orders and Sho obeys again listlessly. Jet doesn’t like this emotionless state any more than he had the frightfully wrathful displays.

While Sho struggles out of his drenched upper layer, Jet turns toward the shore and gestures with his hands like he’s scrubbing. Longshot digs out a whittled bar of soap and accurately chucks it into Jet’s open hands from the shore.

“Give me that. Hold this.” Jet exchanges Sho’s sleeveless, worn kaftan for the soap, pretending that he’s not hyperaware of where their hands brush. 

The faded fabric had caught the brunt of slashed arteries by the look of it, and only in the front as to be expected. Most of the stains have bled wider from Sho’s extended time in the water, far from clean.

Jet clucks his tongue and steals the soap back. “Take your shirt off too.”

It’s the only other piece of clothing that would’ve been splattered since the kaftan covered Sho’s pants down to the calves. 

“Here, scrub.” He gives Sho the soap back, watching only long enough to see Sho heed the order. With enough suds to take care of the fewer bloodstains on his shirt, Sho wordlessly returns the soap to Jet once more.

They wash in silence until the water has run clear a second time. The stains will linger but they all have clothes with dark spots. It’s nothing new, even if the deaths that caused the spots were recent.

“Check that your shoes are clean,” Jet next instructs Sho, taking the wet shirt from Sho’s lax fingers and draping it over the kaftan on his arm.

Sho climbs to his feet, balancing against the current to take off his shoes one foot at a time. Jet leaves him the soap and the task, wading back to shore to hang up Sho’s clothes to dry.

“Is he okay?” Smellerbee asks, because she’s the only one who can right now. Longshot and Jet had told her what they’d seen, but _she_ hadn’t seen Sho like that. She only sees Sho’s silent obedience, a trait that’s never applied to him, not even when it had been an act for Graw.

“No,” Jet answers, draping sopping fabric over a low branch. “He isn’t, but he will be.”

Smellerbee accepts this answer as true enough. 

Jet changes to a dry pair of shorts and gladly redresses in his clothes and armor pieces. That river is cold. By the time he’s covered again, Sho emerges from the water; shoes held by two fingers at the heels and pants draped over one arm. Without comment, Sho puts his shoes in a patch of sunlight to dry and hangs up his pants next to the rest of his clothes. He gives the remainder of the soap to Longshot, and then changes into his spare set of dry clothes. 

Finally, by some unspoken yet unanimous agreement or newly learned habit, the four seat themselves into a diamond on the grass.

“Sorry,” Sho starts, his voice far hoarser than usual. “That was… unintended.”

An apology for an unpredicted trigger, and then ‘unintended’ rather than ‘unintentional’. The difference is that Sho’s apologizing for being triggered, but not for what he’d done afterward. Waking nightmare or not, Sho had wholly intended to slaughter Guan-Yan’s group. The only unexpected part was that it happened so suddenly, with company.

“Is that gonna happen again?” Smellerbee asks quietly.

“It shouldn’t.”

“But it might,” Jet responds, because Sho doesn’t use shoulds or coulds. It’s all can or will or don’t or won’t. 

Sho’s shoulders droop a little farther. “But it might,” He echoes woodenly.

“How can we avoid that happening again?” Smellerbee asks, but Jet has a differently shaped question.

“Who does that to you?”

As it turns out, both inquiries have the same answer.

“I usually find most of them,” Sho tiredly begins a long overdue explanation. “My killers. Many I let go, because it’s the war. They were protecting themselves, others; as they thought they had to. Necessary. Understandable.”

No one needs to reaffirm which category Jet fortunately found himself in.

“The rest…” Sho closes and opens his fists restlessly. “Some killed me because they wanted to. It was fun to them. They’d drag it out. Taunt me. Those ones I remember. I’ve killed most of them. I haven’t found them all again. There’s only two left now.”

It’s equally obvious where Guan-Yan found himself on Sho’s list. His name’s been freshly crossed out. Jet needs to know those last two names.

“Who?”

“Yu-min, a woman. She’s a Fire Nation bounty hunter from the homeland. I probably won’t see her so far east,” Sho supplies, bitterly curling his lip at the memories.

“What’s she look like?” Jet needs details. The more pair of eyes on the lookout, the sooner the warning before Sho snaps like that again.

“Black hair, kept long. She wore a golden dragon pin in her topknot. Pale skin, amber eyes. Mole on her cheek. Metal bracers on her arms. Firebender,” Sho recites, until he’s nearly hissing. He needs a reminder of _now_ before he slips any further back.

“Sho,” Jet says just the name, simple and stark. It should be the only name connecting Sho to _them_ and not his past.

Sho blinks hard, bristling subsiding by inches.

It’s enough details on Yu-min, for now.

“And the other one?”

Sho’s eyes narrow, scowling at a face only he can see. “Shao Fong. Earth Kingdom mercenary. Earthbender. Older, past middle aged. Brown hair, eyes. Stupid fucking goatee and sideburns. His laugh- loud. Distinct.” This time, Sho pauses between descriptors for longer, reminding himself of the present. 

Jet nods. Yu-min. Shao Fong. The latter is the more pressing concern, but Jet memorizes both equally. He doesn’t want to be taken off guard by another Guan-Yan incident. 

He doesn’t want to know Guan-Yan’s crimes or affiliations. His gut instinct and estimates of Sho’s judgment held correct. Guan-Yan got exactly what he deserved. As for the rest of his group, it’s too late for them, regardless of what they may have or hadn’t been associated with. There’s no point to wondering now.

“Here, drink that,” Smellerbee commands, shoving a waterskin into Sho’s hands. “You sound awful.”

Sho smiles thinly, drinking without commentary.

All this time, Jet’s attributed the raspy quality of Sho’s voice to throat wounds, his own inflicted death blow included. Now, after hearing Sho roar, snarl, hiss, and shriek like a beast, Jet wonders if it’s not just old injuries to blame. Scar tissue would be far from Sho’s only damaged quality.

Longshot catches Jet’s eyes, asking an old, familiar question. What do we do with the bodies?

Back in the forest, they’d dragged soldiers into unmarked graves to hide signs of their presence in the trees, as well as to stem off sickness from bodies being allowed to rot in the open air. Here, they won’t be staying long enough for either of those factors to matter. Bodies are evidence, however, and there would be a trail to follow. They could still disappear into Ba Sing Se before that becomes a problem.

There are also the packs of supplies and substance the group had been carrying, now abandoned, to consider. Going back for at least that much would only be prudent, in case something else waylays their journey back to the ferry waystation.

Jet doubts that Sho would relapse just by seeing the bodies again, but Jet hadn’t been prepared for _any_ bodies today. He needs to take precautions.

“We can salvage food and items from their supplies,” Jet proposes to his squad. “But do we want to spend the time burying the bodies?”

Sho snorts crudely, only to then wince when it clearly hurts his throat. He drinks some more water to soothe the ache. At least that’s his opinion known on the matter.

“Digging for a dozen people would take too long, and we don’t have any shovels,” Smellerbee points out pragmatically. “We could just cover them, with blankets or branches.”

“No one will miss them,” Sho assures darkly, capping the waterskin.

Jet looks at him askance. “Is that a guarantee?”

Sho stares back without wavering, a subtle sneer on his lips. He nods.

He’s the one who knew that group. Maybe he personally saw to the fact that there’d be no retribution seekers while on the hunt for Guan-Yan. 

Jet puts another question in the Do Not Ask box. He decides to take Sho’s word on it.

“Agreed to salvage supplies?” He checks, receiving whole agreement on that matter. “Sho, I’d prefer if you stayed here and guarded our bags.” Jet holds Sho’s eyes as he says this, conscious to word himself as a request and not an order.

“I can clean up my own messes,” Sho returns, controversial but not up to his typical stubborn snuff either. The waking nightmare took a lot out of him.

“I’m not doubting you,” Jet says, carefully honest. “I want you to rest. The day’s not over yet.”

Sho continues to stare, weighing Jet’s words for truth. “Fine,” He concedes. “I’ll dry the clothes and put together some food.”

Jet nods, frankly grateful that Sho hadn’t put up more of a fight. He and his fighters stand up and move off as a cohesive unit.

Longshot had already seen most of the slaughter. The only body that takes Smellerbee off guard is Guan-Yan.

“Sho did all this?” She asks, needing confirmation and responsibility for all the blood.

“Longshot and I only corralled and disarmed,” Jet confirms.

Smellerbee is quiet for a moment, taking in the carnage again. “No one’s burned,” She mentions, and Jet realizes she’s right.

Sho’s swords had steamed a little, but he’d bent no flames. A firebender who doesn’t kill with fire and smoke. Jet could almost forget that Sho’s a firebender at all. He’s slowly accepting that it’s not necessarily a bad thing.

He doesn’t know how to say any of that, so he doesn’t reply to Smellerbee’s observation as they get to work.

-

It’s a surprise to no one that nightmares are an unwanted guest that night to them all. As ever, they remain unaddressed.

-

The following day, Sho is quiet. Understandably so and admittedly they’re a little wary about him again, and probably not hiding it very well.

It’s not as if _their_ hands are clean. They’ve killed for revenge too. It’s not as if they hadn’t already known that Sho had a wrathful side either, or that his sense of justice is the karmic understanding of those that give hurt, get hurt. It’s just that Sho’s thirst for revenge is less of a choice and more of an unfortunate, unconscious reaction. It could happen again, _at least_ twice more. If and when it happens again, they’ll be strangers in Sho’s nightmares once more. Tentative allies if they don’t act against him, but equal potential to be enemies if they so much as move the wrong way. It’s not a sustainable trust.

No, that’s not fair. He’s still Sho as they’ve gotten to know and trust. He didn’t become a wholly different person. It’s just that now they know for certain how deep his wounds go. They may be going straight now, but Sho’s vendetta is a wholly separate matter. Some things can’t be left in the past, and it’s not Sho’s fault.

Yu-min the Fire Nation bounty hunter, and Shao Fong the Earth Kingdom mercenary had both taken delight in torturing Sho, leaving behind scars much deeper than the skin. Guan-Yan (and who knew how many others) is nothing more than an ordinary nightmare now though. If confronted by either one of the former names, Jet knows that _he’d_ act the same. He is still Sho’s ally, and he’ll help Sho gain his vengeance rather than stand in his way. There’s a certain kind of peace in knowing that those who hurt you, can definitely never hurt you again.

Jet wishes he had that sort of peace, but he’s never twice seen the firebender who slaughtered his village. He’ll never forget that face, or let go of that hatred. 

“There’s a farm.” Sho’s voice is still hoarse when he does speak up. He’s facing inland, and when Jet mirrors him, he can also see the thatched roofs of buildings, and fencing.

“Are we stopping?” Smellerbee asks, coming up to next to Sho, deliberately close on his bad side. She’s trying to make a point here, or teaching herself anew not to shy away from their fourth.

“We don’t need anything from them,” Jet answers. “And I doubt they’ll hire any extra farm hands on the spot to help out either. Let’s keep going while we have daylight.”

Longshot points in two directions, proposing a choice: head inland around the farm now to reach the further tree line and eastern mountain range, or keep following the water and angle back to the mountain pass when they’re closer to the ferry waystation again. Smellerbee silently votes for the former by pointing more south than west. Sho misses the question because he’s staring out over the bay.

Longshot shifts and lightly elbows Sho to get his attention. Sho blinks and turns around, his eyes following when Longshot lifts his arms again to present the choices for him. 

“Oh, uh. Let’s head to the pass from here. Less backtracking, and we won’t come from the same direction twice this way, if the bandits are still there,” He says, and it heartens Jet to hear him decisive again.

His own reaction, combined with Smellerbee’s and Longshot’s actions, convince Jet that actually, not much has changed after participating in an unexpected slaughter. Sho is still theirs, and the past can’t keep him; just as their pasts won't hold them back.

Happily outvoted, Jet nods. “South it is.”

-

Jet’s able to consistently add chi to his intended strikes, with growing precision, during their nightly spars. It’d taken a little convincing to get Sho to spar with him again at all after Guan-Yan, but Jet needed to show him that they’re not afraid of him. Wary of Sho’s limits, yes, but not fearful of _him._ Sho hasn’t hesitated again since those first few minutes of the initial spar Jet had insisted upon.

Smellerbee is catching up fast when it’s her turn to spar and practice her chi. Her daggers don’t glance away off parrying blades so easily anymore, and her strikes are much faster. She’s started adapting Sho’s open palm strikes into her style, but in a way that uses her knuckles rather than the heel of her hand. The difference only leaves darker bruises.

They all learn that Longshot’s pretty much been using chi for his archery all this time, subconsciously. In Jet’s mind, it explains how Longshot’s arrows sometimes take on a life of their own. Accuracy is one thing. Another would be an arrowhead sinking into wood deep enough to support a rope and the bodies rappelling down it, only for that arrowhead to pop loose with just a tug of the rope. Evidently, the latter is a very precise use of chi. Sho was rather impressed to hear the example.

They hadn’t been short yet of the supplies gained from the Si Wong tribe by the time their bags bulged with extra taken from Guan-Yan’s deceased group. Of course then, they’re far from short still when their journey has reached the eastern mountain range bordering the pass. It’ll be another two days at least, maybe three if they take their time, before they make it back there. 

Jet hopes it’s still clear. He would keep his word to those scumbag bandits if they’d ignored his threat, but he wouldn’t particularly want to kill them. Bandits are less than Fire Nation soldiers and murderers who torture their victims. Jet’s learned that he doesn’t have to hate someone to kill them, but the hatred certainly helped. 

As long as he doesn’t go out of his way to kill, and _never_ revels in it, Jet will walk the line. He’s found it for at least that much. Sho _had_ helped him find it. Even with his own skewed perspective of that line, riddled with hidden traumas, Sho held himself to some kind of honor. It’s a kind that Jet finds little trouble aligning with for the most part.

Jet isn’t so clear on where his fighters stand by their own lines, but he has every confidence in them. If he could find the way back, then surely they have as well.

-

The pass is clear.

The hidden stashes of goods are untouched. They pack what they can into their bags and leave the rest out in the open for anyone to find. They won’t be coming back this way again.

-

Despite an absence of four weeks, the ferry waystation is as crowded as when they left.

Although anxious about being underground again, Sho takes over for a good portion of the afternoon; on a single man mission to sell as many trinkets as the opportunistic merchants are willing to buy. Jet feels as useful as a pack animal in his wake, but he supposes it’s an improvement over wanting to smash the stalls to bits. They need to squeeze for every coin they can get out here when Ba Sing Se is one great, looming unknown ahead of them.

Smellerbee thoroughly terrifies a would-be pickpocket, prompting Jet to reflexively check that their passports are still in his possession. He would kill a thief that wasted them a month’s worth of effort.

One entire month… A long time, and yet no time at all. Jet wonders how far north Katara and them have gone in a month’s time. Would they believe how much he’s changed since they last saw him? 

It’s that idle contemplation that has Jet startled to realize that they never told Sho about the Avatar. They never told him exactly who had stopped them from drowning Gaipan’s population, just that it’d happened. Would Sho have heard about the Avatar’s return on his own, wherever he’d been traveling from before Jet stumbled onto him? He’s certainly never mentioned it, and granted, neither have they.

Jet wonders how many of the refugees around them know that the Avatar is still alive after all. He decides he doesn’t want to be overhead and prompt a frenzy of questions about a goofy twelve year old kid. It can wait. Sho’s busy making merchants regret setting up their stalls here anyway. It’s a good show.

Jet waits until after their bags have been lightened of excess goods, tickets for the ferry tomorrow have been acquired with their new passports, and until they’ve claimed an open section of stone floor for themselves (so Sho doesn’t have to be crowded against the walls) for the night.

Sho pauses mid-chew when Jet drops the Avatar on him over dinner. It’s kind of a satisfying reaction. Sho swallows the mouthful entire seconds after the fact.

“You’re serious? The Avatar’s alive?”

“Yup. Name’s Aang. He’s an airbender just starting to learn waterbending. Apparently he was frozen in an iceburg for a hundred years. Don’t ask me how that works,” Jet explains, shaking his head. “He’s just some twelve year old kid who doesn’t want to fight. He’s not going to accomplish much with that attitude.”

Sho hums in quiet agreement, pinching more noodles out of the bowl with his chopsticks and slurping quickly. He’s one of the quietest eaters Jet has ever known. It must be a Fire Nation thing.

“The Avatar’s headed to the North Pole with two Southern Water Tribesmen: Katara and Sokka. She’s a waterbender, he’s not.”

“A living waterbender from the South Pole? And you said she tried to stop you?” Sho shakes his head, stirring around his bowl for a piece of meat.

“Whaddya mean?” Smellerbee inquires, curious by his reaction.

“She’s a survivor of the Fire Nation raids on the Southern Water Tribe, isn’t she?” Sho half explains, half asks. “It’s weird to me that she wouldn’t do anything it took to get revenge on the Fire Nation.”

Jet had thought so too. That Sho thinks the same makes Jet feel vindicated, but also like that Katara might be a better person than both of them combined. He understands what Sho really means though, when he mentioned the raids. It’s still surprising that as Water Tribe, Katara and Sokka _hadn’t_ been more willing to do whatever it took to hurt the Fire Nation after what they lost. Jet had tried betting on the rumored ruthlessness of Water Tribesmen, only to lose that gamble poorly.

Katara and Sokka were young though, and by their own admittance had never left the South Pole before. It makes sense that while the war had affected them personally with the death of their mother, they hadn’t been forced to live _with_ the war every day like most of the Earth Kingdom. It allowed them the luxury of mercy when confronted by Fire Nation soldiers.

Jet should probably stop trying to justify the past and their differences. He can only change himself from here on out and not how others remember him.

They tell Sho a little more about the Avatar and his companions, mostly descriptors if they ever meet the group again. It’ll be really obvious. The bright blue tattoos and yellow clothes, ten ton flying bison, and vivid Water Tribe blue aren’t subtle.

They finish eating and return the bowls to the vendor. A single man watch is arranged to ward off any potential thieves, and Sho will get them up early in the morning to be near the front of the line on to the next ferry. 

-

“I should probably say that I don’t want to be below deck if it’s not necessary,” Sho mentions while they’re waiting to board the ferry.

Jet pays attention. “We’ll get a good spot out on the deck,” He assures. He’s not all that fond of narrow, enclosed spaces either. There’s not enough room to defend yourself when the walls close in on a fight.

“Is that a _thing_ or a preference?” Smellerbee asks warily.

Sho grimaces faintly. “A preference, but it might be a thing too. I don’t want to test it out. It’s been years since I was last on a ship.”

The Fire Nation is a string of islands. Of course Sho would have to be on a boat to leave them. Jet can’t imagine it would’ve been easy passage for a nameless child without a guardian. He also doesn’t want to know if claustrophobic corners out on the water will actually bring out more of Sho’s wealth of bad memories. Jet doubts the ferry could survive a waking nightmare of Sho’s caliber. Best not to risk it at all.

“We’ll stay out on the deck.”

The line inches forward.

-

It only takes four hours into the trip across Full Moon Bay for Jet to decide that he hates boats. The constant subtle rocking makes him feel unbalanced, different enough from the sway of trees to make him sick to the stomach. Thankfully, not as much as Smellerbee, who hugs the railing miserably and routinely vomits after the first half hour.

Sho and Longshot do their best to soothe her misery and discomfort, coaxing her to sip water and drink sparingly to wash her mouth and so that the bile doesn’t burn her throat any worse. Jet sits with Smellerbee when she can’t stand their hovering anymore, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she trembles against his side. 

She’s more aggravated than upset, he knows, betrayed that her body forces her into such a weak state with no cure beyond, “You’ll get used to it.” Smellerbee had kicked Sho in the shin for that one.

An eerie, echoing shriek ghosts over the water at one point. Jet overhears the sailors repeatedly reassuring frightened refugees that the sea serpent is on the opposite of a rock formation splitting this bay from the rest of the lake, so hence the ferry is in no danger from the beast. It’s not baseless reassurance, since Sho had shown them the Serpent’s Pass on the map before. It’d been a feasible possibility to take if the ferry hadn’t worked out. Fortunately, it hadn’t come to that. Jet doesn’t want to hear that shriek any closer than he just had.

They have enough food of their own still to pass on the meals that the crew hands out to its passengers that evening, a fact that makes Jet quite grateful when he glimpses what’s in the bowls. Smellerbee’s having a hard enough time keeping food down without it being near rotten. Watching refugees all around them miserably force themselves to choke down the stuff anyway, Jet fumes.

How is the food that bad? It hadn’t been like this at the waystation. The ferry gets resupplied with each stop both ways across the bay. It doesn’t add up. He waits until dark has totally fallen before he brings up his suspicions and a plan to his squad. 

Sho scowls up in the direction of the bridge lording over the rest of the ship. “Bet my swords I know why.”

Jet’s too smart to take that bet, because they’re in agreement.

Longshot agrees to go with Sho to prove that the ferry’s commanding officers are engaged in foul play. It comes as no surprise that the captain has all the fresh food that he could want or ever eat alone. 

Jet is getting _very_ sick of all these Kingdom folk preying on their own refugees. 

Smellerbee’s feeling more than well enough to help them take as much food as they can carry from the kitchen and distribute it to the people who should’ve had it all along.

The next morning, Jet takes great pleasure out of witnessing the officers’ frustration when they discover that their meals are the same as everyone else’s. They can’t complain either, otherwise it’d be as good as giving away that there’d been a difference of food to begin with.

Jet fully plans on reporting the captain and his lieutenant commanders to the harbor guard when the ferry docks tomorrow. Scum like that don’t get to keep their positions of power.

It feels good to be helping people again, with no doubts around it.

-

The clerk at the train depot squints at their passports for a long, tense moment, but ultimately she stamps their papers and gives them a rote greeting to Ba Sing Se. It’s both a relief and a victory to pass the checkpoint. From here, it’s just a ride on the monorail and that’ll be _it_ \- they’ll have made it into Ba Sing Se.

Sho, rather than being relieved or excited, has been getting twitchier the nearer their journey comes to its end. Jet supposes the anxiety is warranted in Sho’s case. The multitude of Kingdom army, guards, and earthbenders don’t assuredly promise safety for _him_. 

Jet’s been keeping an eye on him, in between trying not to gawk at all the towering architecture. It’s hard not to feel like a stupid tourist or country bumpkin, but he’s never seen buildings as large or grand as these. It’s impressive, and a little infuriating. It all just feels… wasteful; too much spent on grandiose appearances when villages not even seven days of travel away on foot are made out of easily burned wood. 

This is just the train depot. Soon, they’ll see the outer wall, and then the city itself. Jet has no idea how to prepare himself for it all. Ba Sing Se is the largest city in the world, with millions of people living in its walls. His mind struggles to comprehend the number. It sounds suffocating.

Great, now Jet’s starting to feel a little twitchy as well.

Smellerbee looks between the pair of them in open exasperation and swipes the coin pouch to buy cups of tea from a passing guy with a cart. It proves to be a poor choice, however, because the tea is stone cold. Feeling cheated, Jet nearly throws his cup at the back of the swindler, but Longshot pushes his hand down carefully.

With Jet’s and Smellerbee’s attention gained, Longshot looks pointedly at Sho. Their very own source of heat had taken a cup when it was shoved in his hands, but he hasn’t sipped from it; too busy watching for threats.

Jet doubts that Sho’s up for any firebending right now, but Longshot wouldn’t have suggested the idea if it didn’t have merit. Well, it would be a waste to dump tea they spent money on, and maybe Sho could use the distraction- and the reminder that he’s not alone here. Jet understands why Longshot pointed this out.

“Hey, Sho,” He calls lightly, after having made _certain_ that no one’s paying the four of them any particular attention. “The tea’s cold. Would you mind?”

Sho glances down absently at Jet’s cup, frowning without seeming to fully realize what he’s been asked. He looks down further at his own cup of cold tea, pauses for a long second, and then finally freezes in startled realization.

“Are you crazy?” He recovers quickly with a hiss, and Longshot has to save his tea from being chucked as well. Sho stills, watching Longshot’s expression closely. He’s gotten so much better at reading the quiet archer, and he also knows that Longshot only ever makes a point like this for good reason. 

They wait for Sho to make his choice. If he really refuses the risk, then it’d be a waste of money, but no harm is done. Jet watches Sho glance around to determine for himself that no one’s paying any mind to four random strangers. Sho pulls his shoulders back.

“Switch with me,” He says, and Jet does so gladly. Against the pillar and in the center of their semicircle, nobody can see past their bodies to spy the cup in Sho’s hands, much less when the tea starts to subtly steam.

Jet switches cups with Sho wordlessly. The rough ceramic is hot to the touch, but not painfully so. He sips at it while Smellerbee also exchanges her cold tea for a hot one after another short minute. It’s not a bad blend of jasmine when it’s not cold. Sho heats Longshot’s serving and then finally his own.

No one had noticed a thing. They’re just four teenagers sipping at tea while they wait for the next train, the same as everyone else.

As far as trust exercises go, Jet thinks this one went very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko-Sho: They enjoyed killing me. They deserved to die.  
> Freedom fighters: Understandable, have a nice day. 
> 
> I also couldn’t resist giving the train/tea scene a rewrite. Our squad has made it to BSS.
> 
> Another week, another chapter. The schedule's been helping me stay ahead with the writing & editing, as much as I want to post things as quickly as possible like I had the first few.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter got the most comments so far ;A; and we passed both 100 kudos & 1000 hits! thank you guys <3

The outer wall of Ba Sing Se is incomprehensibly _massive_. It looms ever larger the closer the monorail gets, as one does. Even with earthbending, Jet struggles to understand how something so huge was ever even built. It seems to travel as far as the horizon and meet the sky when the train slows to pass through the wall at the checkpoint.

Sho makes a very odd sound when the security checks clear and the train finally passes into Ba Sing Se proper.

“What?” Jet asks him, glancing at Sho and away from the wide expanse of green fields and farmland, so starkly different from the barren dust and sand just on the other side of the wall.

Sho looks some pained combination between thrilled and terrified. “My family would never believe where I am right now,” He shares with a tight smile, and Jet supposes Sho’s reaction is understandable in that reminder.

A month made all the difference. A firebender born on the Fire Nation core islands has successfully entered Ba Sing Se, and the world hasn’t ended. Still, Jet makes a point to sit closer to Sho, enough that their shoulders press together, as a reminder to himself as much as reassurance for Sho.

Sho is their exception. He’s proven himself to them, and they’ve sworn themselves to him. He’s held up his end of the deal. They’ll strive more than ever to uphold theirs. Sho will be _safe_ in Ba Sing Se.

Sho presses back against Jet, and says nothing else for the rest of the trip.

The train passes another checkpoint and another truly enormous wall. Jet’s frustration and awe at the train depot, the sprawling fields, and even the walls themselves becomes utterly inconsequential upon his first look at the city itself. 

Smellerbee breathes her astounded disbelief aloud, a quiet curse for the sheer overwhelming magnitude of buildings layered out before them for hundreds of miles. From the monorail’s height, the view is all dark shingled rooftops of mingled tall and squat buildings, narrow winding streets choked with merchant stalls and their cloth awnings. There’s so many people, everywhere.

The train slows, and then finally stops. The doors open to release passengers into a station. Jet forces himself to stand, reflexively doing a headcount. Smellerbee, Longshot, Sho. They exit the train car as one unit and then stand away from the worst of the crowd.

Now what?

They’re not the only ones standing around cluelessly, but that really doesn’t make Jet feel better. He attempts to scrap together a plan. There must be a place for all these refugees to go. Housing first.

Jet turns to his squad, but pauses when he finds that Smellerbee and Longshot have pressed close to Sho in Jet’s distraction. Sho looks a little panicked around the eyes, which explains why they’re trying to ground him. Jet doesn’t want to crowd Sho, but they can’t afford to lose him here.

“Sho, tell me what you need,” Jet commands, assertive enough to get through to Sho but trying to keep his tone soft at the same time.

Sho’s eyes snap to him attentively, but then flit away just as quickly. “I’m fine,” He says thickly, a blatant lie that he then amends. “I will be. Just give me a minute.”

“There’s benches over there.” Smellerbee points and then doesn’t wait for an answer, dragging Sho by the hand.

Longshot and Jet can only follow. They get Sho sat down but remain standing themselves, prepared to defend their fourth or run as needed. Sho breathes deeply, steadily; and gradually calms.

“I’m okay,” He says, and this time Jet can believe him.

“Are you gonna be okay staying here?” Smellerbee asks bluntly, the same as she does every time she checks in on Sho’s limits to receive a clear answer.

Sho nods, straightening. “Yeah, it’ll be fine. I just got up in my head for a minute. It’s not actually what I remember. It’s not the same. I’ll be fine now.”

It sounds like he’s telling himself as much as them.

“What set you off the most?” Jet asks, because they need to know if that response can be mitigated. 

Sho hesitates. “The roofs,” He confesses quietly. “They reminded me of somewhere else. They’re darker here though, green or black. I won’t even see them much from street level, so it won’t be a problem.”

The specification of color tells Jet more than Sho probably intended. He doesn’t bring attention to it.

Sho stands, steady and certain once more. “It’ll be fine. Really. It was just a lot at first,” He defends, and Jet knows not to push him any further on this right now. For a firebender, Sho could out-stubborn an earthbender.

“Okay,” Jet acknowledges simply, looking among his squad. “First, we need to find somewhere to stay. Everything else comes after that.”

“Or at least somewhere temporary,” Sho responds, which is how Jet really knows and trusts that Sho’s feeling better if he’s providing counter proposals. “If we all end up getting different jobs, we’ll need somewhere in the middle, so none of us are too far out of reach.”

It’s a valid point, which is why Jet no longer minds when Sho speaks up like that. 

“Maybe we could find work out at the fields,” Smellerbee suggests, likely wanting the open air out there for herself as much as to get Sho away from the roofs that reminded him of worse times.

Jet doesn’t know much about farming, but being out where he’s not surrounded by walls all day does sound like the best idea so far. He can already tell that this is going to be a harsh adjustment period for them all.

-

There were few opportunities to learn proper calligraphy, and long multiplication and division when surviving eradication in the wild, but here in the city, it’s a necessity for finding a job that’s more than mindless, cheap labor. It had been an exercise in pride versus practicality just accepting Sho’s ability to teach them what the Fire Nation had stolen by burning their homes and schools when they were children.

Quite honestly, the worst part of Jet’s day is practicing his calligraphy from the sample set that Sho wrote out for them to copy. Holding a brush for a long time in the same position causes his hand to cramp, and the ink gets all over his fingers and arms even when Jet swears he’s paying attention. His strokes are wobbly and it makes all his characters illegible blots. It’s a total waste of money to buy paper just for Jet to make a worthless mess.

“Paper doesn’t cost much and you need the practice,” Sho reminds him for a third time from the other room, probably overhearing Jet’s venomous muttering to the brush and inkstone. 

Sho opens the sliding screen door, wearing a set of new, unstained clothes in muted green and browns dark enough to be black. He’s taken to wearing his hair in the long tight braid that’s the popular style in the city. He looks Earth enough that even the yellow of his eyes seems to have softened to a honey brown.

They’ve been in Ba Sing Se for a few days now, and no one’s openly suspected him of being Fire even once. It’s a relief to all of them, allowing Sho to finally start loosening the tension he carried in his shoulders everywhere. Another week and he might actually relax again.

“You going somewhere?” Jet inquires, glad for the distraction from his atrocious handwriting.

“Just to the market. We need more rice,” Sho reports, slipping on his shoes at the door. “You wanna come, mister I hate ink and paper?”

“Ha ha,” Jet deadpans, but gladly sets the brush aside. He pulls his shoes on and follows Sho out of the apartment, fully aware that Sho forgot to remind him to clean the brush before they left. Hopefully, the bristles will be so stiff that Jet can skip out on practice by the time they get back.

“How’s Pao?” Jet asks as they get down to the street level, often amused to hear about Sho’s employer, if only for the way Sho will almost always snort or roll his eyes. Today earns one of the former.

“Convinced I can save him three silvers every time he buys ginseng in bulk from now on, even though I’ve explained twice now that it was his own booking error that one time.”

Jet doesn’t really understand anything Sho just said, but he especially doesn’t believe that anyone would pay more than even a single silver for a bunch of hot leaf juice. It seems like a total waste of money, even though Sho’s whole job is managing Pao’s budget and record books. Whatever earns him a consistent paycheck, which is more than the rest of them have found so far with the multitude of first come, first serve tasks scattered around the local businesses. 

Counting money has never been the problem for Jet, but when taxes and haggling get involved, seasonal discounts and multiplication to buy in bulk, he gets lost. He’s grasping numbers faster than the calligraphy at least. Smellerbee’s the opposite, and Longshot has the steadfast patience to already outpace the both of them combined. Jet’s proud of them both, if a little envious of Longshot’s swift progress.

Sho’s a stern teacher, but patient. He isn’t overbearing and he doesn’t offer meaningless platitudes. His lessons are straightforward and his grading even more so: they either did it right or they failed. Jet appreciates knowing where he stands without any sugar coating, even if it’s frustrating to hear, “You did this part wrong,” several times in a row.

He pays attention when Sho buys the rice; how the weight and type of grain affect the price, how Sho haggles for a few coppers cheaper because he brought his own bag and hence didn’t need to pay for the merchant’s packaging. It’s a practical process. Now if only Jet’s brain could catch up, and keep up to do this kind of shopping on his own.

They can’t rely on Sho’s paycheck and bargaining sense forever. Hence the lessons, Sho would probably say if he could hear Jet’s thoughts. Sometimes, Jet still can’t believe that he lucked out so well after killing someone. It’s not something that’ll ever happen twice.

Sho absently passes Jet the rice to carry, intent on a sale of fruit from another storefront. Jet hefts the rice without complaint and bemusedly follows in Sho’s wake. It’s still entertaining to watch merchants get taken by surprise every time Sho seems to know the value of their goods better than themselves.

“What even are those?” Jet asks, leaning over Sho’s shoulder for a better look.

“Kumquats. They’re like smaller oranges and you can eat the peel,” Sho explains, using his thumbs to split a small yellow-orange fruit in half so Jet can see the sunburst rind and translucent inner flesh. “Try it.”

Jet takes half and puts it in his mouth as Sho goes back to bargaining for a bundle. He hasn’t had oranges enough in his life to compare kumquats, but the fruit is very sweet. It pinches at the hinge of his jaw with the sour taste of citrus, but it’s not bad at all. Jet takes the other half from Sho’s distracted hand and eats that too.

Sho hardly seems to notice except for how his hand’s now free to gesture about weight versus quantity. Jet partly pays attention to learn, but mostly he’s wondering how many other kinds of food there’s in Ba Sing Se that he’s never had.

Somehow, Sho concludes business with a bag of kumquats and three apples. Jet entirely missed how and when the latter even became involved.

“You’re too good at this,” Jet comments kind of wonderingly. To his pleasant surprise, Sho laughs.

It’s a half strangled thing more air than noise, but it’s a full smile and simple, honest amusement in direct response to Jet’s remark.

Sho keeps walking back to towards their apartment, wholly unaware that anything has changed. Jet starts, also unaware of when he lagged behind. He idly thinks of how Longshot and Smellerbee will react when he tells them he heard Sho laugh today, and that it’d been a ridiculous not-sound of stuttered air. He’ll need to hear it again to describe it better next time.

Back upstairs in their apartment- a cookie cutter mold of all the rest, in one of many tenement buildings that the refugees were funneled into- Jet deposits the rice on the kitchen counter next to the fruit.

“Have you- Jet, you left the brush out! It’ll dry out all stiff like that and brushes _are_ more expensive,” Sho complains, rescuing the calligraphy brush to the sink as Jet strategically retreats to the other room.

 _That_ sound is more familiar than Jet would want to remember.

“Whe- Jet, you sneak, get back here!”

-

Jet takes his lunch with Longshot most often for the crossover of their delivery routes, while Smellerbee’s smallest size makes her the most in-demand runner of their group because she can easily slip through the lunch rush crowds in restaurants. Running deliveries is the best job they’ve found so far; much better than being cooped up in a kitchen scrubbing dishes all day. The more freedom of movement suits them, and also allows them to scout the surrounding districts for more opportunity.

It’s taken Jet all week to get grudgingly comfortable with the idea of splitting up their squad, but necessities must. Sho is safe in Pao’s back room balancing numbers for tea, and Smellerbee is quick enough to be a sought after employee. Each can take care of themselves _by_ themselves, as Jet reminds his restlessness on a daily basis. 

It’s been harder to get used to the law that said they couldn’t carry their weapons on their person without a permit. This city _lived_ off permits. A permit was required to be a farmhand in the Agrarian Zone, and _another_ permit was needed to cross in and out of the inner wall on a daily basis. Considering it was a month long wait list for farmhand permits, it wasn’t a feasible option when they knew so little about farming in the first place, so they were squarely stuck in the Lower Ring.

Jet _really_ doesn’t like leaving his weapons behind. Didn’t these people remember there’s a war on? Repeatedly being turned away from storefronts by skittish employers eying his swords with wariness and suspicion, however, had forced Jet’s hand. For now, he needs to play by the rules in order to carry his weight in paying for food and rent. Smellerbee has enough easily concealed daggers to go around, when Sho’s dao and Longshot’s bow and quiver also had to be left behind in the apartment. Sho’s lessons in chi manipulation made them all dangerous even without steel.

They’re safe here, anyway. There’s no one to even fight. It’s a bizarre concept for Jet.

Longshot bites into his rice ball and makes a slight face. Jet snorts into his own, almost choking on the sticky white rice. Looks like Sho snuck radish into their lunches again. Of all the new things they’ve been able to try in Ba Sing Se, radishes are Longshot’s least favorite. He has Jet’s sympathies, even if Longshot’s reactions to the root vegetable are hilarious.

It’s going to be a very long time before Smellerbee lets Jet forget his reaction to cucumber. The thing tastes like grass, okay, Jet can’t be blamed for spitting it out. Sho had certainly tried, scrambling to save the main dish from Jet’s saliva while Smellerbee screamed in laughter.

At least their waterskins have just that: water with no surprises. Longshot does enjoy putting a squeeze of citrus in _his_ water though, as Jet found out when he accidentally grabbed the wrong waterskin first thing in the morning once. Running deliveries is dusty, thirsty work under the sun.

Jet finishes his last rice ball, dusting his hands off on his knees as he watches people mill about below their perch. There’s so much more room up on the roofs. It certainly makes errands easier and quicker. He wonders why there aren’t more people up here. It must be a city thing to stay on the ground rather than climbing over buildings. 

It’s odd, he thinks, that they’ve been here for a week and he hasn’t heard anyone mention the war. Ba Sing Se really is that safe. As soon as their position here is steady enough, Jet’s determined to do his part in keeping that peace. Legitimate enlistment is still out of the question, but there must be _something_ he can do to help, even if it only goes as far as the inner wall. 

The war still exists, and Jet won’t forget. 

-

“Oh, it’s you lot again,” Pao complains when he finds Jet and his fighters around one of the tables in his seating area. “You’re taking up space from valued customers.”

“There’s no one else here,” Smellerbee points out, cross at the dismissive treatment every time they visit Pao’s Family tea shop.

Because your tea sucks ass, Jet very deliberately does not say aloud.

“We _are_ paying customers,” He says instead, rather diplomatically with a smile. “Three cups of gunpowder, sir.”

Pao purses his lips but he takes the order back to the kitchen. Old prude. Pao’s watered down tea is hardly worth the money, but it’s as good as a requirement to stick around the shop and wait for Sho. Speaking of their fourth, Sho pops his head out of the back room, probably drawn out by Pao’s complaints.

Pao doesn’t like Sho serving customers, preferring to keep the scarred refugee out of sight by balancing ledgers in the back room and helping out in the kitchen. If Sho didn’t need to keep this job so badly to keep them from scraping scraps off the street, Jet would’ve already broken Pao’s teeth as repayment for every time the man refused to look at Sho straight on. 

“Hey, I’m nearly done,” Sho informs them, crossing over to their table so he’s not yelling across the room.

“Good, cuz we’re going out for dinner after,” Smellerbee shares with a smidge of excitement. “Longshot found this place over in the fourteenth district that’s selling beef bowls for half off tonight.”

Sho’s expression perks with interest. “I’ll hurry up then. Be back soon.” He passes Pao emerging with their tea on the way back to his work.

“Enjoy your tea,” Pao tells them politely, takes Jet’s money, and then proceeds to ignore them as best he can.

As usual, the tea is mediocre, and that’s coming from someone who’s lived off just water for most years of his life. Still, Jet paid for it, so he drains the cup as quickly as the heat allows.

It’s not a long wait now that Sho knows they have plans, wrapping up Pao’s business for the evening and clearing his exit with the man himself. 

Longshot takes the lead after they exit the shop, the rest of them keeping up easily while exchanging idle conversation about how their days differed. It’s a walk up to a half hour from Pao’s Family tea shop to get to the fourteenth district, but compared to what they went through to find passports, it’s not tiring in the least. They get a table in the outside seating area of the restaurant and put in their order for four beef bowls and drinks.

“Enjoy your meal!” Their waitress says cheerfully while she delivers the bowls, bustling off to attend to other patrons once her arms are free.

Jet immediately sticks a strip of beef in his mouth and _savors_ it. Nobody comments on his reaction; too busy having similar responses.

They hadn’t been starving outside Ba Sing Se, but travel worthy food all started to taste the same eventually, and there’d certainly never been anything as savory as seasoned beef. This is technically their first meal of indulgence since entering the city, all other meals having been made with their own hands and groceries. All good to be sure, but nothing really compares to a meal prepared by someone who made a life out of cooking.

It’s been… far too long since Jet last had a meal prepared by a legitimate adult who knew what they were doing. He can’t remember the last meal it’d been. His parents would’ve made it. Jet wishes he could remember how their cooking tasted. 

He keeps quiet as he eats, pretending that he’s not getting emotional over a beef bowl even as he savors every bite. Unlike Pao’s tea, this is worth the money.

“That was really good,” Smellerbee says, somewhere between happy and regretful over her empty bowl.

“It really was,” Sho sighs, satisfied. “Great find, Longshot.”

Longshot smiles, pleased to have made them happy. Jet’s outright thrilled to see it again, reaching out to tap Longshot’s hat fondly and making his approval clear. Longshot dips his head to the touch and the smile stays.

Their meal paid for and finished, they clear the table for other customers and start making their way back to the apartment for the night. There’s no need to rush so they take their time, meandering through the twisting streets that are slowly growing more familiar.

Sho knows the surrounding districts the least because he only has the one job, so he listens attentively as they point out buildings and the best ways to get around the area so he knows the routes too if he ever comes this way alone.

“Just show me,” He says, when Smellerbee’s spent the last few minutes trying to describe a route to him over the roofs. “I promise I’ll be okay. It was a one time thing.”

Jet and Smellerbee share a brief look. She’s not quite looking for permission and he’s not looking to disagree to the suggestion. If Sho really thinks it won’t be a trigger, it’ll be Smellerbee’s decision to oblige the request.

“Okay. Follow me,” She says after a moment, and then turns off the main street.

Sho follows her first, watches how she uses discarded stacks of palettes and the wall to gain height, and then copies her path upwards with lithe ease. Longshot and Jet make their own way up onto the roof, and all three of them watch Sho look over the dark shingled roofs. In the night, the overlapping buildings blend inseparably in the middle distance, only distinguishable by the lantern lights glowing from windows and the streets below. Sho’s body remains relaxed, his good eye subtly reflecting the light from Jet’s angle.

“It looks better like this,” He tells them calmly, and Jet lets go of most of his caution.

Smellerbee reaches out and wraps a hand in Sho’s elbow. She points with her other hand, explaining her route again now that Sho can see it for himself. He nods, listening with the same focus as earlier.

Jet shares another, different look with Longshot. The archer shakes his head, a subtle smile still on his lips. Jet smirks privately in response. Yeah, maybe they are a little overprotective.

If Sho can face down a similar image to a bad memory and still find some enjoyment in it, then Jet can allow himself to appreciate this time of peace without guilt getting in the way. It’s not helping to end the war, but Jet supposes that even the most devoted soldier needs time to unwind from the fight occasionally. He can always do more, but for tonight, Jet’s done enough.

-

“What’s wrong with our clothes? They’re clean, they cover the important bits, and we have spares. There’s no need to waste money buying anything more,” Jet says, stubbornly crossing his arms.

“Jet, you have _one_ extra shirt,” Sho retorts flatly. “I think Smellerbee _maybe_ has two. I’ve never seen Longshot wear anything else.”

“So?” Jet huffs as the store employee hovers awkwardly off to the side, unclear on whether her services are needed or not by their not-quite-argument.

“ _So_ we have enough saved up that you can get new clothes,” Sho states. “I even checked around beforehand. This is the best bargain. It won’t even put us back any for all of you to have more than one outfit.”

“We don’t _need_ more than one,” Jet insists.

“You’re allowed to _want_ more,” Sho responds in the exact same tone, and Jet… hesitates.

“Don’t worry, they do this all the time,” Smellerbee tells the employee in an exasperated, fond sort of voice. “Do you have anything in navy?”

Longshot’s already looking over a pair of pants in dark brown with a critical, considering kind of frown.

“Fine,” Jet concedes grumpily, sore to be outnumbered. “ _One_ more outfit.”

“Sure, Jet.” Sho nods indulgently, and he laughs that same not-noise of raspy air when Jet shoves him towards the rows of hanging fabric. 

-

“We have a problem.”

“Might,” Sho abridges Smellerbee’s proclamation, following her into the apartment. “It _might_ be a problem.”

That’s practically a first for him, deliberately using a maybe, so Jet gives Smellerbee his attention first.

“Some girl is stalking Sho,” She reports and Sho huffs loose hair out of his face.

“She’s not a stalker. She may just like the shop.”

Another maybe from the cautious Sho, who normally bordered on paranoid. It’s either nothing or worse than Smellerbee thinks.

“For the tea?” Smellerbee scoffs. “I’ve seen her before. I watched her today. She stared at Sho every time he talked to me, when he couldn’t see her.”

“That doesn’t have to mean anything bad,” Sho points out, continuing to defend this random stranger. “People stare at my scars all the time.”

Longshot makes a wordless gesture to get their attention and then poses his question.

“I didn’t catch that one,” Sho admits apologetically, and Longshot nods to show that he takes no offense.

“He’s right though. If she’s really not a problem, then it won’t hurt anyone to ask her directly.” Jet indirectly translates Longshot’s question into a plan of action.

“I really doubt she means any harm,” Sho insists, at last explaining why he bothered defending the stranger. “Everything about her screams civilian. She’s probably just some sheltered girl too shy to ask about how I got my scars.”

“Well, we’re going to find out tomorrow,” Smellerbee states, pleased that they were quick to take her side on this potential concern, and Sho sighs in defeat. 

Even if it _is_ nothing, Jet would rather embarrass some shy city gal than risk Sho because he treated Smellerbee’s warning too lightly. When it comes to protecting their own, there are no shortcuts taken.

The following day, as promised, the trio joins Sho at Pao’s Family tea shop.

“Pao’s going to kick you out if you stay all day,” Sho tells them, still holding out that all this is an overreaction.

Maybe it is, but Smellerbee takes her promises seriously and so does Jet.

“Let him try,” Smellerbee dismisses, sitting down firmly.

Sho sighs, partly exasperated and partly indulgent, and leaves them to their stake out.

Pao does make a bit of a fuss, insisting again that they can’t take up a table if they’re not paying customers. Jet buys the cheapest cup of tea on the menu and then doesn’t bother to drink it so he won’t have to pay for refills. Pao tries once more to get rid of them after the first hour, but gives up grouchily when they’re totally unmoved by his feeble threats. Left undisturbed now save for the dirty looks, Jet deals out a pack of cards to pass the time.

“You guys want something to eat?” Sho asks after the second hour, resigned that this is just how it goes. 

He brings out some pastries upon request. Pao still doesn’t want Sho normally serving customers, but it’s not like he has many of those, and it’s not like _he’s_ willing to serve his employee’s friends anymore. They pool some coins together for the bread, and tea to go with it (and actually drink); settled in to wait all day if that’s what it’ll take.

Some people do come in for tea eventually, but no girls that Smellerbee signals as the right one during the third hour.

“You’re distracting my employee,” Pao accuses during the fourth hour, when Sho has brought spare paper out to their table, using the opportunity as an excuse to brush up on their arithmetic.

“It’s fine. I’m already done with the finances for the morning and the bread’s baking,” Sho explains away the attempt to kick them out this time. “You forgot to carry the four, Jet.”

Jet curses and corrects the problem to get the right solution.

Finally, in the fifth hour after Sho’s back in the kitchen to appease Pao’s fits, Smellerbee taps the table in three pointed raps of her knuckles. Jet looks carefully over the rim of his tea cup.

It’s a plainly ordinary Kingdom girl in green, with her dark hair in two long braids in the front of her shoulders. Sho was right yesterday in that nothing about her says anything more than just a harmless civilian interested in bad tea. If not for the way the girl keeps glancing at the door to the back rooms, Jet would’ve also dismissed her as a threat. Smellerbee was right too, in that the girl definitely has taken an interest in Sho. Her focus may be entirely innocent, but Jet and his fighters are compelled to make sure. There’s no quick or easy exit from the Lower Ring or Ba Sing Se if someone points Sho out as a threat. 

Jet considers his approach. He wouldn’t mind the blunt tactic of just scaring her off, but subtlety is the best path to determining real threats. He confers with his fighters while dealing out a new hand of cards to disguise their stake out from the target. Longshot’s still of the opinion to approach the girl outright and ask why she keeps staring after Sho. Smellerbee favors the quieter side of waiting to see what the girl decides to do today before they confront her seemingly out of nowhere and hence spook her into running her mouth.

Frankly, Jet would rather get it over with. He’s tired of Pao’s sour looks and bored of the shop, as well as hungry because pastries aren’t that filling. Perhaps a way to accomplish all of the options at once is possible. If they can get Sho out of the shop for lunch, maybe it’ll prompt the girl into showing her hand. 

Longshot and Smellerbee agree when Jet quietly proposes the idea to them. Armed with a plan, Jet packs up the cards while Smellerbee goes to pull Sho out of the kitchen. Pao’s so happy to see them finally leave that he doesn’t mind Sho leaving the shop for his lunch break. 

Jet watches the girl studiously stare at her cup of tea when Sho emerges from the kitchen, acting shy in spite of her waiting to see him. Not really shy, Jet realizes as her eyes flit again to Sho’s back, just subtle. Seeing her look at Sho directly now makes it all too clear what her interest really is: she’s just a girl with a crush.

Jet smothers the urge to laugh. All this really had been an overreaction after all. Still, it’s good to confirm that there’s no threat.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t chased her out of the shop,” Sho teases once they’re in the street, away from the one eavesdropper who’d matter.

Jet smirks in response. “No need. She just thinks you’re cute.”

Sho blinks, taken aback.

Smellerbee squawks a noise that’s disbelieving laughter. “That was it?”

Longshot shakes his head in quiet amusement.

“Huh,” Sho murmurs, bemused. “That’s a first.”

“Really?” Jet’s voice comes out sounding more doubtful than he’d thought it would.

Sho shrugs and waves at the left side of his face. “I’ve had this for so long that I’ve never considered why else people would stare.”

Jet frowns, thinking that Sho’s assumption is understandable, but nonetheless unfair. Sho is so much more than how he looks. The scar doesn’t even take away _that_ much. 

“How’d you get it?” Smellerbee asks quietly, surprising Jet that she’d finally ask the obvious question.

Sho stills, but he doesn’t pause for long. “My first death,” He reveals softly. “I don’t like to remember it.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Smellerbee hurriedly absolves, guilty now that Sho actually answered. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Sho shakes his head. “It’s… Well, it’s not fine, but I know you didn’t mean any harm.”

Jet’s still digesting the revelation that _was_ said, sick to his stomach as the details string together. 

Sho had been forced from his home at nine years old, because he’d died. His first death had been the result of fire consuming the left side of his face, leaving behind the distinct burn scar. If it’d been a disaster of accidental consequence, Sho wouldn’t warn people off from reaching for his face. A burn that concentrated wouldn’t have been made by any natural fire. A firebender murdered a nine year old child in excruciating fashion.

Could it have been Yu-min, the Fire Nation bounty hunter? Is that why Sho hunts her name? If it wasn’t, then why isn’t there another name on Sho’s list of vendetta? Just who had been the first to kill Sho? Jet won’t ask, not now, not when Smellerbee’s already guilty to have upset Sho.

Longshot reaches out and grasps both of their shoulders in comfort. Sho attempts a thin smile.

“Thanks. I’m alright,” He murmurs, bending a little to take Smellerbee’s hand. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It was a long time ago.”

Smellerbee squeezes his fingers and nods, accepting that Sho forgives the question.

Jet’s quietly proud of all three of them, a feeling that wards off the sickness of revelation. He hadn’t figured this outcome just by revealing that the harmless girl has a crush, but it’s not all bad. Certainly nothing good either, but Jet refuses to discredit a development of _some_ kind. 

“Let’s get some chicken skewers,” He declares, not subtle in the slightest and not caring in the least either about changing the subject.

Sho’s smile warms with honesty. “Let’s,” He agrees.

-

They didn’t accompany Sho back to Pao’s shop after lunch, since a girl with a harmless crush obviously isn’t a threat to their secret. Jet regrets that decision when he next sees Sho, because the other teen looks very perturbed. Had Jet been wrong? Are they at risk? His alarm must be obvious because Sho hastens to explain.

“We’re not in danger. Though, I think that’s part of the problem…” He mutters the last bit more to himself before shaking it off. “I talked to that girl at the shop. Her name’s Jin and she asked me out on a date, but that’s not important.”

Jet takes this in with some conflicted thought. Sho’s rambling is still a little funny, and it’s interesting that he might have a date, but Sho’s too unsettled for Jet to make light of either detail right now.

Sho glances into the other room, but it’s still empty. “Will Bee and Shot be back soon?”

Jet allows himself just a moment to appreciate that Sho’s picked up their nicknames from him.

“Probably,” He answers. “What’s wrong?”

Sho grimaces, kneeling to join Jet at the low table. “When I was talking to Jin, I mentioned the war. She didn’t know what war I was talking about.”

Jet frowns, immediately confused. “What _war?”_ He echoes incredulously.

Sho nods grimly, tightly crossing his arms. “There’s something weird going on in Ba Sing Se, Jet, for people not to know the war even _exists.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So atla canon implied that Zuko, Iroh, Jet, Bee & Shot were in BSS for awhile, at least a few days, & Jet never once picked up that no one talked about the war? At least, that’s what I’m going with in that it took them this long to realize something’s up. So the kids had two weeks of domesticity, before the ugly finally showed through the cracks. Aka the plot returns.
> 
> Thx again for all your kudos & kind comments <3 I love hearing ppl make guesses & appreciate Jet's progress <3 <3 See you next week!
> 
> Edit/Mention: **glitterghostlies** in the comments left such a lovely one (on this chapter) that I ended up gushing in response, so if any of you want a peek for some further insight to my thoughts, it's definitely down there (lmao)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thx again for all the kudos & comments <3 It keeps me happy~
> 
> I was looking forward to posting this one :3

What war? _What war?_

The phrase jangles around in Jet’s head, tangling with other pounding questions and a distant ringing. All the dead, all the burned, and there are people in Ba Sing Se who don’t even _know?_

“We need to find out how deep this goes,” Jet decides, surging to his feet.

Despite having just sat down, Sho follows him back out of the apartment without protest. 

Jet had thought it was weird that no one talked about the war here. He thought it was just that safe. He never could’ve predicted that it went far enough that there’s people literally living in ignorance. How? Where did they think all the refugees came from, and why? Did they not think to question what hoards of people were running _from?_

Jet knocks on their closest neighbor’s door, loud and impatient. A clean shaven older man answers the pounding with a scowl after a moment.

“Why don’t people talk about the war here?” Jet demands before the stranger can ask why they’re bothering him. He watches intently as the man’s eyes widen with sudden fright and then check the hall. What’s he so afraid of?

“I don’t know. Goodnight,” Their neighbor denies hurriedly and shuts the door in Jet’s face.

“We’ll find more people outside,” Sho points out when Jet goes for the next door.

It would be faster than waiting for people to answer their doors, so Jet deviates to the stairs. It’s still early evening, with plenty of people going about their business. Someone has to have the answers for what’s wrong in this city.

“We’ll find out more if we split up. Meet back here in twenty?” Sho recommends and Jet nods agreement, already intent on a woman closing up her storefront as Sho goes in the other direction.

“Excuse me,” He prefaces to get her attention. “Do you know why no one talks about the war?”

Just like their hall neighbor, the woman’s first reaction is surprise and then fright. She even glances around the same way.

“You can’t talk about the war here,” She tells him in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?” Jet pressures, annoyed when she hisses for him to be quiet. “No. What’re you so afraid of?”

“Leave me alone,” The woman tells him urgently, striding away quickly. 

Jet takes two steps after her and she breaks into a run. Frustration growing, Jet gives her up as a lost cause and turns to find someone else.

Unfortunately, the next three people he asks after that all react in the same way, only warning him to lower his voice and not ask about the war, without answering any of his questions before they refuse to acknowledge him any further.

“Stay away from the Dai Li,” The fourth person Jet accosts for answers adds onto the typical responses, but then locks Jet out of the store without explaining who the Dai Li even are.

Are they the ones everyone’s so afraid of?

“Jet?” Smellerbee’s voice pops up when Jet’s fuming after yet another person refuses to give him a straight answer. “What’re you doing?”

“Trying to figure out why everyone’s too scared to talk about the war here!” Jet half answers her, half yells the accusation to the surrounding street. No one meets his eyes, and they skirt skittishly around him on the road. What is _with_ these people?!

“People are afraid?” Smellerbee’s brow contorts under her headband, confused.

“There’s also people who don’t even know the war _exists,_ Bee,” Jet adds, wishing he’d brought his tigerheads down just to grip the hilts. “And no one’s explaining anything!”

“What?” Smellerbee wonders in audible disbelief. “Who told you-?”

“That girl from the shop,” Jet explains dismissively, impatiently as he tries to get _anyone_ to look at him.

“Did you go back to talk to her?” Smellerbee asks, progressively more confused in his wake.

“No. Bee, it doesn’t matter where I heard it,” Jet says, finally turning to look at her directly over trying to catch the eyes of all these _sheep-koala_ in the street. “What matters is that everyone’s pretending the war doesn’t exist anymore and we need to find out why. Where’s Longshot?”

“I haven’t seen him since lunch,” Smellerbee confesses, frowning tightly. “But Jet, we’re safe here. Why _does_ it matter if some people don’t know what’s out there? Wouldn’t that be a good thing? That they’re not like us?”

Jet stills, biting down on the rising urge to snap at Smellerbee for growing complacent and giving up the fight. He’s not that person anymore, and he doesn’t want Smellerbee to go back to being quiet and wary of him again. He tries to think about her questions seriously.

“Maybe you’re right about the people born here,” Jet allows slowly, working through his frustration by inches. “But what about the refugees? Why aren’t _any_ of them talking about the war? After everything they lost? Something’s not right here, Bee.”

“It _is_ weird,” Smellerbee agrees. “What if-?”

“Hey, kid.” An adult voice interrupts them, resolving into an older man in an officer’s uniform. “You the one harassing people?”

“Harassing?” Jet echoes scathingly, turning eagerly to the confrontation. “You mean asking questions everyone’s too afraid to answer? How about _you,_ officer? Why doesn’t anyone mention the war? Who are the Dai Li?”

Some form of recognition sparks in the man’s expression, but it’s swiftly smothered under professional disapproval, maddeningly.

“There is no war in Ba Sing Se, boy. If you keep disturbing the peace, the Dai Li _will_ get involved.”

Jet scoffs, ignoring Smellerbee’s quiet warning of his name. “That answers nothing. What use even are you then? Is that uniform just for show if these Dai Li are the ones who make arrests?”

“You’re out of line, boy,” The officer warns, pride likely insulted and hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.

Jet wagers he could put the man on his ass in three seconds flat. He’s ready to invite the fight even, to show this so-called officer what _war_ taught him, when his eye catches on Longshot’s hat coming towards them. As Smellerbee had found him, it seems Longshot had found Sho.

Initially, Jet only feels more confident. His whole squad is in one place, and even with only daggers, they’re dangerous enough to best anyone. Upon meeting Sho’s eyes at a distance, however, Jet is suddenly struck with a chilling realization.

What is he doing? Antagonizing a city officer in a place where people are afraid to even mention the war. Sho is a living reminder of the war- a firebender surrounded by Earth authority that still unsettles him even after two weeks here. A Fire National, walking straight towards an irate officer whom Jet just reminded of the war against the Fire Nation. How could he be so _stupid?_

Jet whistles loud and sharp, startling the officer. Behind the man and well out of view, Longshot and Sho immediately halt in place at the command to hold their position, their expressions a mirror of confused tension.

“You’re right, officer,” Jet forces himself to say, his heart suddenly racing with stress akin to panic. “I’m just a little confused. I meant no offense.”

He holds his hands behind his back, mimicking a respectful pose while actually urgently signaling Smellerbee to join the others. He hopes she’ll understand his abrupt change of behavior and will go keep Sho from getting any closer to the threat of discovery.

The officer looks suspicious of the sudden change as well, and though he glances at Smellerbee’s departure, he makes no move to get her involved.

Jet’s chest feels stretched hot and tight over his hammering heart. He almost risked Sho’s life because he couldn’t mind his temper. There’s a reason why everyone he’d asked about the war had been so afraid and skittish, even if Jet still doesn’t know why. Jet _can’t_ make himself a memorable target. Anyone who looks at him will also see his kids and Sho. The Earth Army tortures firebenders they capture. Jet _can’t_ let that happen.

“Well, if you regret what you’ve done…” The officer prompts pointedly, daring Jet to undermine his authority further.

Jet swallows his pride and forces his best face of regret. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

The officer nods approvingly and removes the hand from his sword. “Then I’ll let you off with a warning. Remember, kid, there’s no war in Ba Sing Se. Behave, and you’ll have no trouble with the law.”

Jet nods obediently, digging his nails into his palm. “Yes sir.”

With one last lingering look, the city officer continues past Jet- opposite his squad.

Jet’s shoulders immediately slump a little, mingled relief and shame weighing him down after the high of frustration and anger cut off so abruptly into panic. He can’t slip up like that again. He has to be smarter and not lose his head at the soonest opportunity. The stakes are too high to be that reckless.

“What happened?” Sho’s the first one to ask as they join Jet, his voice low and private.

“I didn’t think,” Jet answers bitterly. “And almost did something stupid. Let’s get off the street.”

No protests are given, and Jet deliberately walks in the back so he can see all three of his squad before him: present and unharmed. Even after the door to their apartment is shut, locked, and the window over the sink closed, Jet hardly feels any better. 

“Start from the beginning,” Smellerbee orders, cross legged and arms crossed at her side of the table. To her left, Sho starts with a sigh. 

“Jet was right about the girl from the shop. Her name’s Jin and she just wanted a date. That’s not important, but when I was talking to her, I mentioned the war. She had no idea what I was talking about. She didn’t know there even _was_ a war. I came back here and told Jet, because that’s a big difference from everyone just not talking about it.”

“I got pissed off,” Jet admits, taking over from there. “We split up outside to get answers. Nobody would give me a straight answer about why they won’t talk about the war. They just kept telling me to lower my voice and that I can’t talk about it here, without explaining why. One guy warned me about the Dai Li, whoever they are. Smellerbee found me soon after that, and that officer heard I was ‘harassing’ people. I mouthed off to him.”

“You nearly started a fight,” Smellerbee corrects bluntly. “But then you just stopped. Was it because you saw Longshot and Sho?”

Jet nods sullenly. “Mostly Sho,” He confesses lowly. “I was putting him at risk by drawing attention to myself like that. I didn’t want him to get close enough to be seen.”

Sho frowns in response, like he wants to protest that somehow but doesn’t know how because Jet’s right.

“I heard a little about the Dai Li on my end,” He shares instead. “They’re definitely above the city officers in authority. Apparently, there are rumors that they’re responsible for disappearances in the city.”

The essential confirmation of Jet’s suspicions makes him feel sick to his stomach. He could’ve sentenced Sho or his kids to such an ominous fate with his carelessness.

“We need to relocate,” Jet declares, paranoia warring with practicality in response to this largely unknown threat. “Just to be safe. We can learn more about this cover-up of the war when we’re not worrying about being abducted by some shady police force.”

“Agreed,” Sho states firmly, immediately giving Jet another rush of relief. “There’s no telling what people will say to benefit themselves.”

Jet hadn’t thought that far ahead yet, but as usual, Sho isn’t wrong with his wariness. Jet hadn’t been quiet or polite with his demands tonight. They need to disappear on their own terms, four among millions, before anyone shares the incident rumors with the wrong people.

“Are we leaving tonight?” Smellerbee asks, quickly into forward thinking rather than defending the meager roots they’ve put down here.

Jet’s restless enough to nearly agree at once, but forces himself to stop and think. After such a long day, they’d be running on fumes and with it being so late in the day, they’d end up sleeping vulnerably on the streets. It’s not a worthwhile risk to take.

“No, we’ll leave in the morning,” He decides. “That gives us time to pack tonight, and we’ll tie up loose ends tomorrow so no one has an excuse to track us down.”

The landlord needs to be paid off one final time and then told that their apartment is empty, and Sho needs to quit Pao’s employ and receive his last paycheck. As for the rest of them, they probably haven’t made much of a lasting impression on the various store owners in the district, being just three more delivery runners that won’t show up at the local doors anymore.

“We need a watch tonight, and we don’t split up tomorrow.”

“The first thing earthbenders do to take you by surprise is to take your feet out from under you. You can’t trust the ground. You’ll be tripped or rooted,” Sho tells them, concise instruction learned from experience that now serves as a warning to them. “The person on watch needs to focus on feeling for tremors first and using their eyes second. Don’t sleep with a blanket on. It’ll only make it harder to get out. To get up.”

He corrects himself, but one word made all the difference. An unasked question finally gets its miserable answer.

“Okay,” Jet accepts the advice without allowing the implication to fester. “Pack up and keep your weapons in reach. We leave as early as possible.”

Longshot takes first watch after four packs have been lined against the wall nearest the larger window. He’s positioned to see both windows and the door, loosely nocked bow in hand and feet firmly planted on the bare floor.

Jet will take the next shift, then Smellerbee, and then Sho will get them all up at sunrise. As Jet lies down to sleep, all he can think about is the bullshit rhetoric that the city officer had repeated.

There _is_ war in Ba Sing Se. It’s just not done out in the open like everywhere else. They can learn the new rules- well practiced after weeks of constantly being forced into new circumstances that demanded they swim or drown. They all learned how to fight the ocean itself a long time ago. This will be no different.

-

Their new apartment is roughly the same as the first: a similar tenement building with a similar layout and the same rent agreement for refugees. There’s benefit to uniformity; places built to house the influx of refugees. How contradictory of the power in charge to change the city itself for the war’s survivors, only to denounce all mention of the war at the same time.

The majority biting their tongues to keep the minority blissfully ignorant. Top heavy with a rotten foundation only requires a little push to get the whole thing toppled. Determining whether the rumored Dai Li is the power in charge is the first step. How much is rumor and how much is legitimate threat? 

It’s never been an option to close their eyes and block their ears in order to pretend that the war stopped existing just because of some walls. Two weeks has been enough time to wait and adjust. Jet can be patient when the plan calls for long reconnaissance. The motions return to his limbs easily, as if they’d never had a break to speak of. The scenario and the opposition may be different, but at the end of the day, Jet’s fundamentals remain the same: fight the war and keep his kids alive.

It’s so easy to be angry. Too easy, maybe; too familiar for comfort or a fresh start. So much for a new beginning in Ba Sing Se. Jet can’t _stay_ angry. He has to keep his head, or things will get far worse. 

Oddly, however, Jet finds a warped mirror in Sho. Sho is angry as well, keeping it leashed with caution, but it’s ebbing out everywhere and Jet doesn’t understand why exactly. Part of Sho’s anger must stem from fear, but Jet can’t actually see much of the latter. He needs to understand because Sho’s anger is much more dangerous than his. They need to know what will push him over the edge again, to be prepared for the fallout if not prevent it entirely.

Jet steels his nerve, buries his own anger for now, and asks Sho directly without filters or excuses. “What’s making you so pissed off?”

Sho glances over from where he’s been keeping an eye out their new window. He blinks in quick succession, consciously banking the smoldering in their depths. Smellerbee and Longshot are scouting out the nearby roofs, checking for tails and finding new escape routes, and he’s been keeping track of their position. 

Jet had waited until their squad split into the right pairs before he asked. Jet wants transparency within their squad, but he also selfishly doesn’t want either of his kids listening in on this. Not until Jet knows the answer- about Sho, but also about himself. He needs to know if Sho will hold him back, or will slide backwards with him when the fight inevitably comes.

“These people,” Sho starts, looking back out the window, but now down at the clueless civilians endlessly milling about. “Not the refugees, really. They’ve lost enough to the war. But those who know better, who have the ability to fight and _choose_ to do nothing, that’s what pisses me off. Maybe the war wouldn’t have hurt so many people if these Dai Li and all the city guard did more than protect lies and hide.” 

His fingers clench and relax restlessly on the windowsill, as is his habit when stressed. It’s the same thoughts that stoked Jet’s temper. It’s no longer surprising to hear Sho’s align so well. Somehow, Smellerbee and Longshot had escaped feeling this type of relentlessly dissatisfied anger. Jet’s glad for that truly, but it feels so good to be _understood._

“Or maybe it would just make it all worse,” Sho continues in a mutter. “More blood, more dead. No safe places at all anymore. But doing _nothing?”_ He shakes his head, sharp and just the once. “Ignoring all that suffering? Pretending it doesn’t even exist?”

His lips curl into a snarl and Jet watches, transfixed.

“I died so many fucking times for this spirit-forsaken war, and for what?! To be made silent and obedient by cowards hiding behind walls?!” Sho’s voice grows in pitch until he’s suddenly breathing deeply, pointedly; struggling to push the fury back down.

Jet’s an asshole for poking at it and asking it to show him its teeth again, just for the selfish feeling of being understood. They probably shouldn’t be left alone together- the two of four whose rage washes out all the rest. Jet is trying not to be that person anymore but he still slips up, and sometimes Sho can’t control what sets him off.

Ba Sing Se isn’t safe. Jet had blindly lived their lie for only two weeks. Having that blindfold ripped off the other day had soured all the progress he’d thought to have made; curdled the recent good memories with resentment. 

For the civilians, maybe some of them even enjoyed forgetting about the war. For those who had lost everything, the muzzle of silence must be suffocating. 

The sheer audacity of disallowing Jet to even blame his parents’ murderers, and for who? Girls like Jin who frequented tea shops for a cute boy? As if that’s all she needs to be worried about when there are thousands of refugees around her every day? If there’s no war to people like her, then do they believe the Fire Nation isn’t the enemy?

That thought more than the rest allows Jet to grasp the true magnitude and insult of this colossal lie. The Fire Nation, the firebender that burned Jet’s village, _not enemies?_ The offense is insurmountable, unforgivable; staggering, blinding. 

Sho sits down next to Jet and hooks their elbows together, cleanly startling Jet out of his rage with his sudden appearance and the strangeness of the sudden contact. 

“We need to be careful, Jet,” Sho murmurs, his voice tightly leashed as Jet stares at his scar. “I don’t want to die here. I don’t want any of us to die here.”

Jet inhales and puts his hand on Sho’s forearm, carefully well above his wrist. He exhales slowly, aware that this is the longest either of them have touched the other since they met.

“We won’t die here,” Jet swears lowly, and Sho nods.

It’s not just Sho who’s in danger here. It never had been. Every survivor of the war who can’t suffer the silence is at risk here. They’d been safer on the edge of the Si Wong Desert. All that effort to get here, and maybe it would’ve been better if they’d never come. It’s too late to go backwards. 

They can’t be the only ones dissatisfied with the way Ba Sing Se is held in a stranglehold. If they could find those other fighters, it must lead to a resistance somewhere. The war exists. The Fire Nation won’t stop just because some people behind Ba Sing Se’s walls don’t know they’re enemies. Everyone burns the same.

Sho carefully puts his other hand over Jet’s on his arm, squeezing just hard enough to make Jet’s knuckles briefly grind together.

“We’ll be careful, but we’ll fight,” Jet promises him.

Sho’s lips curl again, less of a snarl and more of a smirk of anticipation.

-

Sho can be spectacularly contradictory.

He’s the one at the most risk against Earth authorities, but he’s also the first to support Jet’s will to fight. He doesn’t want to be captured, but he’ll take up the most dangerous routes of surveillance. He’ll agree to a plan beforehand and then almost immediately go off on his own ideas. He’s the most paranoid yet Koh-may-care person Jet has ever met. 

Jet wants to uphold his promise to keep Sho safe, but Sho himself scornfully refuses to be sheltered or coddled. At one point in the discussion of what to do next, he takes out his Earth Kingdom dagger so aggressively that Jet fears something’s about to be stabbed. Instead, Sho brandishes the flat of the short blade towards them.

“What does this say?” He demands.

Jet has to squint against the reflection until he reads the engraving. “Never give up without a fight,” He realizes, and some things about Sho make a lot more sense when he values that dagger so much.

Sho nods and sheathes the knife with one sharp motion. “I’m not allowing anyone to keep me on the sidelines. Not even you guys.”

Well, Jet supposes that’s par for the course.

“Fine,” Smellerbee concedes the point grumpily, and then pokes Sho in the belt where he’s stashed the dagger. “Where’d you get that anyway?”

“I found it, soon after I first got into the colonies,” Sho explains easily.

Frankly, Jet’s glad that it hadn’t been another traumatic memory.

“It’s obviously Earth Kingdom, but I found it buried in what was left of a Fire Nation caravan,” Sho continues, looking reminiscent. “They’d probably been ambushed by resistance on the way back to the homeland at some point. Whatever happened, I really needed to hear those words then, so I kept it.”

Maybe Jet had thought that a little soon. He feels like a huge dick remembering how furious he’d been to find that Kingdom-make dagger on a firebender, now knowing what he does. If finding those words gave Sho strength at a dire time, it’s little wonder why he holds them so highly still. It’s some kind of miracle he’s managed to hold onto the dagger for so long, through all kinds of incomparable scenarios.

“Don’t distract from the point,” Sho says immediately afterward. “I’m helping, so let’s not waste time saying otherwise.”

Jet lifts his hands shoulder height in surrender. “Alright. We’re set up here for the time being, and there’s been no sign of any tails. It’s as safe as it’s going to get. We need to find out more about these Dai Li. Facts; not just rumors.”

“Are people gonna wanna talk about them though?” Smellerbee questions warily.

“They’re the big authority around here, and everyone seems to know it. People will be nervous, but it won’t be the same as talking about the war,” Sho says confidently. “As long as we ask in the right way, no one will expect anything more than clueless new refugees.”

Jet doubts that Sho means it as a dig at how poorly Jet had handled asking questions last time, but the reminder still stings. 

Longshot asserts that they should still stick in pairs on the search. It’ll be safer to have immediate backup, and it will feasibly be more difficult to disappear two people at once.

“Surveillance _only,”_ Jet stresses. “Until we know for sure how the Dai Li operate, and how exactly people disappear, we avoid conflict.”

He can’t imagine the apparent power of the Earth Kingdom’s greatest bastion being anything other than solely earthbenders. Jet and his fighters don’t have practical combat experience against earthbenders. Why would they? Until recently, Jet had thought that they were all on the same side: us versus them. Only Sho has any substantial experience in combating earthbenders, but a few worrying half-admitted implications don’t reassure Jet in the slightest. He would bet his new value of money that aggressive earthbending is one of Sho’s triggers. They can’t lose Sho to another waking nightmare at the first skirmish. 

Though, Sho projects every confidence that he’s unafraid to fight earthbenders. He hadn’t reacted overtly negatively to the earthbending bandits in the mountain pass, Jet remembers. Granted, Jet had been plenty distracted himself at the time, but he so starkly recalls Sho’s silence during that short fight. There’s definitely a clear difference between that collected, focused silence and the unhinged, screaming fury directed at Guan-Yan.

Alright, so there’s probably a scale on what Sho can handle when it comes to earthbending. Blunt, direct attacks from clumsy bandits were easy to handle. Being trapped or rooted is probably worse. Being underground is on the higher end of that scale. Being buried ( _get out)_ is definitely the point of no return.

If Sho can stay up high, that will diminish the risk. That makes Longshot the best partner for him. Longshot’s range can compensate for Sho’s limited depth perception, and Sho’s melee prowess can ensure no one gets close to their archer. If the roofs bother Sho again, Longshot will be right there to tie Sho to the present. Jet and Smellerbee are best suited to the ground and are well accustomed to working in tandem. It’ll be a good split of pairs where necessary.

Jet startles, flinching back from a blunt sting on his forehead. Sho drops his hand from where he’d sharply flicked Jet.

“You gonna share with the group at any point?” He asks sarcastically.

Jet treats him to his most unimpressed look. “I was getting to it. You’re just impatient.”

“Focus,” Smellerbee reprimands them both as Sho scoffs in response. “What’s the plan, Jet?”

“We hit the streets first and stay as a group,” Jet decides, mentally backtracking from worst case scenarios. “Play up the clueless refugees act.”

“If we can run deliveries, that’ll be a good excuse to ask questions about what not to do and who to avoid,” Sho suggests. “Plus we still need the money.”

“It’ll help us get to know the area better, too,” Smellerbee adds in support, so Jet nods in agreement with them both.

“Alright,” He says, pushing off his knee to stand up. “Let’s get started.”

Permit or not, remaining fully armed is a risk they’ll have to take to protect themselves in the city from now on.

-

The Dai Li wear dark robes and conical hats, according to word of mouth. They all wear the same uniform, and they’re always in pairs. The Dai Li are absolutely earthbenders, ones who evidently favor precision and stealth rather than large, loud attacks. They _do_ take people away for disrupting the peace and persisting about the war. Some people stay gone, but many return… different.

This latest piece of information is the most concerning by far. What methods force someone to _forget_ the war entirely? What kind of brainwashing makes someone remember a life that doesn’t actually exist? Jet doesn’t want to find out. 

The Dai Li can **never** know about Sho’s resurrections. Who knew what kind of cruelties people like that would inflict on a firebender who can’t stay dead, if they already did such awful things to their own people. Jet will not be the reason why the Dai Li’s names are added onto Sho’s vendetta list, or worse. 

“It’s risky,” Sho affirms with a grimace, anxious for good reason. “But I’m still not leaving you three to do this on your own. If any of us get caught, they could find out about me just the same, so the risk is equal.”

Not quite, Jet thinks, but close enough to agree without pointless protest. He doesn’t want Longshot or Smellerbee captured and brainwashed any more than Sho.

“We can’t join any known resistance,” Jet admits, reluctant but far too wary now of the high stakes to take any chances with strangers. “Anyone who remembers us and gets caught could turn us in, willingly or not.”

The larger their opponent looms with every overturned stone, the more Jet regrets coming to Ba Sing Se. He’s not one to despair, but he doesn’t see a feasible way for the four of them alone to overturn this system. Sho’s secret combined with the threat of brainwashing makes every risk seem like impossibility.

Will they be forced to give up the fight inside the city after all? Do they need to escape Ba Sing Se entirely?

Jet needs time to think, and to rest. He’s tired from trekking all around the surrounding districts, constantly asking guileless questions and receiving only discouraging answers while hauling deliveries. He’s thirsty, hungry, and his legs ache from standing and walking without rest for most of the day. His fighters won’t complain, but Jet knows they’re worn out as well. Sho is too stubborn to know when to quit, so Jet won’t even bother asking.

They’ve learned enough today, so now they need to get back to the apartment to recuperate and digest the information they’ve learned. Risks need to be reevaluated and plans readjusted. A good night’s rest will make tomorrow not seem so dire.

Jet wishes they hadn’t walked so far. It’s dark and the streets are still an unfamiliar maze. It’ll take a while to find their way back.

“Let’s head back for the night,” He says aloud for his squad.

Smellerbee nods tiredly and Longshot tugs pointedly on Sho’s sleeve to pull him out of his head.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Sho agrees absently, glancing upward again like he’d heard something.

Jet follows Sho’s eye line automatically but he doesn’t see anything threatening; Dai Li or otherwise. Just how stealthy can those earthbenders be?

“What is it?” Smellerbee prompts directly, grabbing onto Sho’s elbow as is becoming normal for her more often.

“Just a weird feeling. Not like we’re being watched,” Sho clarifies reassuringly, still looking up.

Not at the roofs, Jet realizes, but the sky.

“It’s probably nothing. Maybe a storm on the way,” Sho continues, half to himself as he rubs idly at his side. “My worst scars sometime ache when it rains.”

There’s too many lights at eye level that make the sky too dark to either confirm or deny that suspicion of bad weather. The only thing clearly visible up there is the full moon, with no clouds crossing Her peerless face. Jet drops his eyes.

“Let’s get back before it rains then.” He’ll use the excuse though, whether it proves true or not.

Sho casts one last indecisive glance across the sky, and then nods while turning his face back to earth. “Okay.”

-

Jet wakes up with a jerk, ripping some fabric off his head with less coordination than usual.

“What?” He blinks hard to clear his vision, sitting up to see Smellerbee’s pinched expression.

“It’s after sunrise and Sho won’t wake up,” She tells him tightly and Jet wakes up completely.

“Is he breathing?” He asks, rolling onto his knees and half crawling across the tangle of layered blankets to where Longshot kneels above Sho’s head.

Longshot nods in answer, and Jet confirms that with his own eyes a moment later. His chest rising and falling steadily, by all appearances Sho’s just sleeping, but in a direct patch of sunlight and heedless of their voices.

“Have you tried waking him?” Jet asks, uselessly because of course they would’ve already tried that.

As credit to her worry, Smellerbee doesn’t point out Jet’s pointlessness. “We haven’t touched him yet,” She says instead, since that’s the next logical step if Sho won’t wake to sound.

A spare shirt next to Longshot’s knee shows that Smellerbee already tried to wake Sho the same way she had Jet, to evidently no success. They don’t wake Sho by direct touch. Jet may have to risk it.

He looks bracingly between his fighters. “Shot, be ready to pin his shoulders if he lashes out. Bee, watch his legs. I’m going to check his eyes.”

Longshot nods, still bed tousled as he hovers hands over Sho’s shoulders in preparation. Smellerbee shifts around, readying to throw herself over Sho’s legs if need be. Pinning Sho down won’t be received well if he does wake up to touch, but they can’t let him hurt them either if he lashes out.

With his fighters prepared, Jet very cautiously reaches for Sho’s face, consciously aware of every inch of taboo. It feels very much like they should both flinch at the first skin contact, but Jet’s hand is steady and Sho doesn’t twitch awake. It’s a twisted mess of relief and dismay in Jet’s chest when Sho doesn’t lash out, or react at all as Jet’s fingers trail up his good cheek. Jet doesn’t allow himself to linger, using his thumb to gently lift Sho’s lax eyelid. He sucks in air.

“His pupil’s not reacting to light,” He explains to his kids worriedly, and then takes even more care to check Sho’s scarred side.

The skin is tough under his fingertips, and yet Sho still does nothing but breathe and sleep on. Neither pupil reacts to direct sunlight. Somehow, Sho can’t see anymore, or even possibly _feel_. Jet lets his eyes close and feels for Sho’s pulse in his throat next. It beats slow and consistent. Jet pulls his hands away entirely.

“Why won’t he wake up?” Smellerbee worries as she and Longshot also ease back from their ready positions.

Jet runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He needs to cut it.

“I don’t know. It’s obviously not a normal sleep, but he’s not hurt anywhere.”

Longshot snaps his fingers softly to get their attention. He points to his eyes, and then upwards- out to the sky.

“That’s right,” Jet remembers last night. “He said he felt weird, and there’s no storm.”

“But what does that mean?” Smellerbee demands, harsh in her concern for their unresponsive fourth.

“Sho’s spirit-cursed. Maybe this is something to do with that,” Jet proposes. It’s the only possible explanation he has so far.

“What if it’s not? Should we take him to a healer?” Smellerbee continues to stress. She reaches out tentatively and lays her hand on Sho’s shin, to still no reaction.

“I don’t think we should risk it,” Jet admits. “If he does die at some point and anyone sees, that’d only cause problems. But if he doesn’t wake up by tomorrow, we’ll risk bringing someone _here,_ where it’ll be safer.”

Smellerbee settles some at the compromise. Longshot carefully lays the back of his fingers against Sho’s forehead, as if checking for a common fever, just in case.

So much for making a decision regarding the Dai Li today, Jet thinks morosely. Now they have the far more important concern of whether Sho’s spirit-trapped or critically ill in some way. This isn’t what Jet wanted when he needed time to think.

“We’ll stay in today,” Jet declares unnecessarily, since it’s probably plenty obvious they won’t be leaving their fourth alone; unconscious and defenseless. “I’ll make some breakfast. Try not to stress out. He’s gonna wake up. Nothing can keep Sho down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More hints/clues to drastic canon divergence, in both past and present. I think the implication is fairly obvious, but if you’ve been keeping up with the (albeit generous) timeline, can you guess what was supposed to be happening at this point?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's rly early in the morning, but it's technically Wednesday for me, & if the past three days have taught me anything, it's that I clearly don't control when I fall asleep or wake up, so lemme just get this out there while I'm still conscious. 
> 
> I shouldn’t have asked for guesses- I love hearing ya’ll guess wtf is happening behind the scenes outside Jet’s POV, but it’s self-invited torture not to overly answer and spoil my own fic x’D I hope this chapter clarifies a few things. Enjoy!
> 
> The [map](https://external-preview.redd.it/D6COo3YmmcBYv5zwCHMdZO4kUjpczWZjNc-Td7cHH20.jpg?auto=webp&s=96e43204a9d64cee57ed9b0acda8f2e05106c180) makes a return for reference.

Sho wakes up during dinner. He sits up with a confused, sleepy squint and escaped hair from his braid frazzled around his face.

“Sho, hey!” Jet realizes first, abandoning his plate in a hurry, aware that Longshot and Smellerbee quickly shadow him into the bedding area. “You’re finally up. How do you feel?”

Sho keeps squinting as they gather at the edge of his blankets. He glances out the window, at the darkening evening sky specifically, and then back to them in open bewilderment.

“What happened?” He asks, his voice a croak from prolonged sleep. “I didn’t die, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” Jet assures quickly. “You wouldn’t wake up, but you never stopped breathing. You only missed most of today.”

Sho frowns, his confusion not abating in the least. “I was having a really weird dream,” He tells them thickly, rubbing his eyes clean of grit. “Do we have any paper left?”

Longshot gets up, locating some spare sheets and gathering the brush and inkstone, and returning swiftly with a cup of water. 

Sho yawns broadly, thanks Longshot with a mumble, and then drinks from the cup first. He pours a little water into the inkstone well next, and then rubs the inkstick on the stone in pure mindless habit.

“What’re you doing?” Smellerbee inquires while they wait for the water to turn dark enough.

“My head’s full of pictures,” Sho mumbles. “I need to get them out.”

Jet exchanges looks of bewildered concern with his fighters, but he decides not to interrupt as Sho spreads the papers out on the floor. Sho wets the brush in the ink and starts putting black swathes down. Jet watches curiously, noting that artistry is definitely different from calligraphy. He doesn’t see the growing image at all until he realizes that Sho is only painting the shadows. In the white space, a face is starting to take shape.

“Wait, is that the Avatar?” Smellerbee realizes aloud, astounded.

It _is_ a considerable likeness to Aang, even before Sho lines the side of an arrow on the Avatar’s tilted forehead. It’s eerie, because Sho has no basis upon which to so accurately put Aang’s face down on paper. 

Sho doesn’t seem to have heard Smellerbee as he continues to ink the brush and draw. It’s like he’s in some kind of weird trance. He keeps blinking too much for his strokes to be so certain, like it’s a struggle to keep his eyes on what he puts down. 

Jet doesn’t like it, but he still doesn’t interrupt. The sooner Sho gets the pictures out of his head, the sooner he can return to normal.

Images of Katara, Sokka, the sky bison and even the lemur join the Avatar on different sheets of paper. Jet doesn’t remember telling Sho about that flying lemur in the first place. Truthfully, he’d forgotten the little creature himself until now. There’s definitely some weird spiritual influence at work here. 

Longshot mixes more ink for Sho when he starts to run out, and Smellerbee sets aside the wet pictures to dry when Sho seemingly finishes with a paper.

Jet doesn’t recognize the fourth face that Sho creates out of shadows. It looks like a young girl with hair in her face. Sho doesn’t draw her with any pupils.

The next sheet features two faces. Both older men, they have similar hairstyles, and one has a beard. Jet has no clue who either of them are, though the necklaces look distinctive. 

Smellerbee puts the pair next to the other unknown girl and frowns at the trio. “Who are they?”

Longshot shrugs.

They’ve finished their dinner waiting for Sho to finish his unexpected surge of portraits. Jet’s prepared a plate for him whenever he’s finally done. Sho can heat it up on his own, once he’s out of this strange trance. He’s starting to run out of paper.

A fourth stranger emerges in ink; a sneering man with thick sideburns and a topknot. Fire Nation. Smellerbee scowls as she sets it beside the rest.

Sho yawns again, and Jet has to lunge to catch Sho’s hand before he rubs ink into his eyes.

“Careful, Sho.”

Sho wrinkles his nose but he changes direction to rub his face into one lifted arm, thankfully keeping his face unmarred of ink. He’s starting to look more aware. He also takes the pause to frown thoughtfully at the drying pictures laid out for him.

“I don’t know any of these people.”

At this point, Jet’s not surprised. “Is that all you saw?” He prompts instead. He has to catch Sho’s hand again to prevent him from smearing ink on his forehead.

Sho huffs and lets Jet pull his fingers down. “I’m starting to lose the rest,” He admits, picking up one of the last remaining sheets of paper.

His sketch comes out rougher, switching to efficient lines over filled in shadows. It’s not another face, but an angled view down at a place. The three distinct walls remind Jet of Ba Sing Se at first, but the edges are too sharp and the center rises in a tower that doesn’t look Kingdom. Sho sets aside the rough sketch without explanation and hurriedly takes another paper.

He draws two fish- one black with a white spot, and a white one with a black spot- in a circle. He sets aside that picture aside too, and grabs the final sheet. Sho hesitates, debating which image is most important to put down over whatever rest the spirit-dream had shown him. He decides on a series of smaller symbols over one image.

One looks like the stylized image of some kind of bird, while another looks like a pig with wings. Sho draws some kind of snarling animal without eyes, an open fan, a flower with eight petals, and then finally an oval-egg shape with repeating patterns on its side.

“Agh, I can’t remember anything else,” He finally concedes, throwing down the brush and picking up his plate with ink stained fingers.

Longshot takes the brush and inkstone to the sink to clean. Smellerbee puts the final paper next to all the rest. Jet crosses his arms thoughtfully and looks over all the pictures at once.

“I think I got possessed,” Sho comments, frowning at his portraits especially. “I don’t draw that well.”

“You _were_ out of it,” Jet agrees idly, looking Sho over. “You finally look like yourself again.”

“My head hurts,” Sho says flatly, putting his now subtly steaming food down across his folded legs and picking up the chopsticks. “Do you know any of these?”

“That’s the Avatar.” Smellerbee immediately points out Aang’s face. “Katara, the waterbender. Sokka, her annoying brother. That’s the Avatar’s bison and pet lemur. The rest we don’t know either.”

Sho manages to frown as he chews. He swallows hard and points his chopsticks first at the Avatar, the Fire National sideburns, and then the three walled fortress. 

“I think these three were related, somehow.”

Jet instantly dislikes the implications. Had Aang somehow gotten himself captured by the enemy?

Sho scratches the clean end of his chopsticks at his hairline, and then points at the fish. “I think this was north? Maybe? There was a lot of ice, but also grass. It was confusing.”

Jet can’t even begin to fathom a guess on what that’s supposed to mean. “Anything else?”

Sho immediately points to the Water Tribe siblings and then the two men on the same paper. “Pretty sure these go together, too.”

Now that he’s said as much, Jet can see the resemblance better. They’re probably all Water Tribe, and Southern at that. Sho doesn’t make any further connections, busy with hungrily cleaning his plate.

It’s gotten fully dark by now. Longshot had lit the candles earlier with the sparkrocks they haven’t really used much at all, save for when Sho’s absent- or unconscious, as today so happened.

Smellerbee lines up the pictures as Sho had put together, and the fish by themselves. The Avatar’s pets, the young girl without pupils, and the sheet with all the random pictures are set in their own overlapping pile, separate from the rest.

Sho puts his chopsticks down on his empty plate. “So it’s probably safe to say I was given visions,” He says dryly. “ _What_ it all means is up to interpretation though. The spirits aren’t that helpful.”

Considering circumstances, Sho has every right to be bitter.

Jet bites his thumbnail thoughtfully, trying to determine the intention behind the visions. No one is smiling among the black lined faces, and they’re faced in every direction except straight on. It would’ve been more helpful if Sho had drawn more scenes, but it hadn’t looked like a choice.

The Avatar is self-explanatory on importance. Aang had been the first one Sho put to paper. Aang is the World Spirit; the Bridge to the Spirit World. Does that imply that all these pictures have to do with him?

“You ever have any visions before?” Jet asks Sho, half to test his theory.

“A few,” Sho admits, somewhat surprisingly. “But nothing like this.”

That explains why he’s so calm, relatively, about the spiritual influence at least. That, or visions must seem so vapid in comparison to the resurrections. 

“I think this all has to do with the Avatar,” Jet proposes, to stay on track.

“And I’m someone the spirits have already fucked with, so why not shove visions in my head about the Avatar, too,” Sho notes in a venomous mutter.

Smellerbee frowns at Aang, the Fire National, and the fortress pictures she lined up. “You think he’s in trouble.”

Jet nods at the statement. 

Sho sighs heavily and stretches to pick up the paper of the three walls and tower sketch. “This _might_ be Pohuai. I’ve only heard stories that it’s one of the Fire Nation’s most secure strongholds.”

That doesn’t bode well.

“Is it _in_ the Fire Nation?” Jet asks, experiencing short lived relief when Sho shakes his head.

“No, but it might as well be. Oh, thanks, Longshot,” Sho acknowledges as Longshot spreads out the map over top of the dried pictures. 

Sho’s finger traces over the map, orientating himself until he decisively points to a spot almost directly west of Ba Sing Se, but much further than where Jet and his fighters had ever been in their forest. When Sho pulls his hand away, there is a tiny indication of a structure at the base of a mountain, bordered by the river. 

It’s in an area solidly known as the Fire Nation colonies. Jet scowls. 

It’s too far to help, if Aang _is_ being held there. It’s definitely too far of a journey to make without any certainty, not to mention it being a military stronghold well within reach of the main Fire Nation forces. It’s far too much of a risk on the unconfirmed chance that the Avatar _might_ be held there. There’s neither a guarantee that Aang would _still_ be there even if they did get there eventually to see.

“There’s no way to know for sure that Aang’s there,” Jet admits aloud. “It’s too far to check.”

“Spirit-visions aren’t time accurate either,” Sho tells them. “It could’ve happened already, or has yet to happen.”

Great, that only creates more possibilities, not less.

“So Aang either was caught there, or will be? Maybe he’s escaped already?” Smellerbee supposes, and Sho shrugs in non-answer.

“The spirits aren’t as helpful as they think they are.” He sneers faintly, and then finally pushes up onto his feet to stretch with a groan of effort.

“What’s even the point of showing you then?” Smellerbee complains and Sho points at her, as if wordlessly saying _exactly_.

Longshot rolls the map back up and Jet collects all the pictures into one pile. 

What _is_ the point? Why show Sho all those people and images if nothing’s certain when he wakes up? Does Aang need help or not? And why now? Why not when Sho had been much closer to the stronghold in question, and outside Ba Sing Se? There’s no concrete answers and Jet understands Sho’s frustration with the spirits’ meddling.

“Did we decide on anything about the Dai Li while I was out?” Sho asks while stretching limberness back into his muscles.

“No, we were a little distracted when you wouldn’t wake up,” Smellerbee responds dryly.

“I’m fine,” Sho assures them.

“I had to check your eyes,” Jet mentions, feeling as though Sho needs to know. “Meaning I touched your scar. Sorry.”

Sho pauses mid-stretch, brow furrowed. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“No,” Jet reassures firmly. “You didn’t even twitch.”

Sho thinks for a moment longer, and then resumes bending over his legs. “I don’t remember, and as long as I didn’t hurt anyone, it doesn’t matter. You’re forgiven.”

Easily given forgiveness, but what Jet really hears is the certain confirmation to never touch Sho’s facial scar in any other circumstance.

“Are we really not going to do anything about these pictures?” Smellerbee asks, taking the stack from Jet to flip through.

“ _Can_ we do anything?” He counters. “What’s there to do that we know for sure needs our help?”

Obviously Smellerbee can’t refute that, as much as she frowns at the papers.

“Wait,” Sho suddenly says, straightening. “Hand me the one with all the random pictures?”

Smellerbee does, and Sho frowns at it for only a second.

“I do know this one,” He mumbles, flipping the paper so they can see him tap at the pointed semi-circle of the bird-like image. “It’s the flag of the Southern Raiders. I don’t know why I didn’t notice earlier.”

“You were sort of possessed,” Jet reminds him, but mild humor quickly fading. “Does the name imply what I think it does?”

Sho nods grimly, handing the paper to Longshot when he reaches for it.

“Well, that’s information Katara would probably like to know, but that still doesn’t tell us anything,” Jet remarks.

Sho shrugs helplessly again. “So what can we do about what we _do_ know? The Dai Li?” He reminds them once more, clearly over all this spirit nonsense despite just giving one of the symbols a name.

Jet sighs. Although it’s true that they hadn’t reached any decision about the Dai Li today, unwilling to commit in any direction without Sho’s awareness, Jet had still put a lot of thought into it over the hours of waiting for Sho to wake up.

“We still need to figure out where the Dai Li are based, and how they brainwash people. Once we know that, we can take on more risks.”

Knowing where to stage a rescue, and learning what’s the time limit on irreversible damage if any of them do get caught, are the two things that Jet has determined to be necessary before anything. Once he has that information at least, only then will he feel marginally more comfortable with putting the fight to the Dai Li.

“That makes sense,” Sho agrees with a satisfied nod. “Though there’s probably more than one base. Ba Sing Se’s a big place. We’ll have to be careful tailing the Dai Li for a few days to determine anything certain.”

All of that’s true enough, and Jet’s glad to have Sho’s input on planning back. It fortunately seems like the spirit-visions haven’t had any permanently negative effect on him.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” Jet says, eyeing Sho. “Are you going to be able to go back to sleep tonight?”

“Probably not,” Sho doubts. “It’ll take me few days to get back on schedule, but it’ll happen naturally. I’ll be fine.”

Jet doesn’t contest this response. He trusts that Sho won’t overextend himself unnecessarily. If he turns in as soon as the sun sets tomorrow, he’ll work back to a proper routine from there. It won’t be so different from watch shifts, in a way.

Sho starts undoing his hair to brush out while the other three get ready to go to sleep. He won’t do anything reckless on his own during the night. He’ll probably clean, check their supplies, or meditate to pass the time. 

Jet has no reason to be worried about Sho staying up all night after sleeping the day away. It’s just the long time spent waiting in tension that’s left Jet feeling uneasy. Plus with what’s waiting for them tomorrow, it’s only natural that some anxiety lingers. By the time Jet lays down and closes his eyes, he’s reassured himself that a little unexpected weirdness isn’t going to throw them off from what needs to be done.

Ba Sing Se may be huge, and they’re only four alone, but if Jet has learned anything, it’s the understated power behind precision strikes compared to overwhelming pressure.

-

Jet wakes from a nightmare sometime during the night. The unusualness of it leaves him more unsettled than he’ll ever admit. 

He’s had nightmares involving Sho before. At first, they were a mix of horror and guilt, an image of Sho with a torn throat looming accusingly over him. Later, as Jet’s perception of Sho gradually changed from enemy to ally, Sho’s face would join his kids among those whom Jet had failed; those who’d die because of his decisions.

This dream, however, had been a new horror. Every one of Sho’s many scars had been bleeding.

Logically, Jet knows that the nightmare doesn’t mean anything, but Sho all too recently had been given spirit-visions. Jet doubts the spirits have taken notice of _him_ enough to do the same, but he can’t shake the feeling of being threatened- or warned. 

That many scars had meant a lot of blood. It meant Sho could bleed out before the wounds could all be stemmed. 

Scars are naturally weak under pressure. The skin splits easily where healthy flesh joins the scar. Jet has opened the ones on his knuckles countless times from numberless fights. Are Sho’s scars the same? When the resurrection seals his wounds, does it leave his skin weak like ordinarily healed scars? If the scar on his neck reopened, how deep would it go?

Jet has to get up before he keeps needlessly torturing himself.

The subject of his nightmare and morbid wondering is still awake, as expected. Sho’s lit a single candle at the table he sits beside. He’s whole, marred, alive, and bloodless in the low, flickering light. He also has the ink pictures spread before him and the brush in hand.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Sho greets him with a whisper.

Jet mutely shakes his head, unwilling to explain further. He sits at the table as well, squinting at the papers.

“Did you remember something else?”

“A little,” Sho answers, looking back to his images. “I wanted to label them, and more started coming back to me.”

Instead of more images, Sho has written lines of calligraphy in the spaces left around the portraits. Jet pulls Aang’s closer to better see. Sho has labeled it with the Avatar title, as well as reference to Pohuai Stronghold and the unknown Fire National. The rest is new and nonsensical mentions that may or may not have anything to do with Aang.

The Air Temples, the city of Omashu, a storm, and a volcanic eruption. 

Katara’s portrait has gained the information about the Southern Raiders, as well as mentions of nuns, an apparent title of The Deserter, and a necklace that Jet assumes to be the same that she wore when he’d known her.

“Are these related to who you wrote them by?” Jet asks, still whispering as he glances at Sokka’s picture under Sho’s wrist. There’s something about machines being recorded.

“Maybe,” Sho replies softly, his penmanship smooth in spite of the low light. “It all blends together, comes and goes. It’s driving me nuts, not knowing whether any of this is important.”

Jet sympathizes, setting aside the portraits and putting his head down on his crossed arms. Sho doesn’t tell him to go back to bed rather than fall asleep at the table. The subtle sounds of the brush on paper soothe the restless itch in Jet’s head.

“Do you think we should leave Ba Sing Se?”

The sounds still to silence at Jet’s quiet question. 

He wants Sho to give him an excuse for one direction over the other; to finally tip the scales on Jet’s indecision. He’s so tired of being yanked up short every time he resolves to fight. What sort of message is trying to choke him? 

Jet recalls that Smellerbee had asked him why did it matter if some people didn’t know about the war- that it should be a good thing that people weren’t _like_ _them._ Jet had been so angry, but he’d tried to give her an answer. He doesn’t think he’d actually answered her real question at all.

That was before they knew about the risk the Dai Li posed, but neither Smellerbee nor Longshot had raised protest against the reconnaissance and surveillance of their new enemy. Would Jet have heard them if they had? Would they speak up when it finally came to an actual fight? Do they even _want_ to fight?

Even now, the only one Jet actually asks is Sho. Before, he’d justified himself that only Sho understood the dissatisfied, angry need to always fight. Now, he may be asking if Sho would abandon the fight, but he’s still hoping for the same answer. Is Jet using Sho as the wrong kind of excuse? 

Can Sho still keep Jet in check if he also wants the ill advised fight more than sense? 

Add in all the spirit complications, the threat of Dai Li brainwashing to unveil it all, and Jet doesn’t know what’s the right thing to do anymore. The war needs to end, and his squad needs to survive it. That’s all Jet needs and wants. How does he get from here to there? What part does he play, or is he just that insignificant as to not change anything at all?

Jet lifts his head, because Sho hasn’t answered in a good while.

The firebender’s taken the flame off the candle, and holds it in his palm. Sho stares unblinkingly into the small, orange-red fire that casts his face in subtly shifting shadows. 

Jet watches him firebend, aware that his heartbeat remains steady. He still trusts Sho not to burn. Would he remember that if Sho ever bends a flame bigger than what a candle’s wick can hold? How much more of a disaster would it be to find out the answer while they’re in Ba Sing Se?

Sho lays his hand out flat, allowing the flame to roll off his fingers in a little ball, back to the candle; like fire is just that harmless and easy to control.

“I think I owe you an apology, Jet,” He finally murmurs, remembering to be quiet but firmer than a whisper. “I’m angry, but I’m always…”

Sho trails off, and Jet listens.

“I always used to be angry,” Sho amends with the faintest smile. “I’ve been better with you guys. I wouldn’t mind dying if it meant you were safe, but I think Smellerbee would say that defeats the point of staying together.”

“She would,” Jet affirms, smiling the same way. “We like you better alive. And not pissed off.”

Sho laughs, that same strangled, soundless burst of air that Jet first heard a week ago, that afternoon of buying rice and fruit; and then once more, buying clothes so Jet has more than one outfit for the first time in years.

“You know what? Me too. Which is why I owe you that apology.” He returns to whispering, and puts the calligraphy brush in the cup of water to soak the bristles. “I think we were using each other to stay angry, because it’s easier.”

Jet dips his head a little, because they understand each other.

“I don’t think I want to go back to being angry all the time, Jet,” Sho confesses, rubbing at the ink stains on his fingers, like maybe he sees a different color.

Jet reaches over and covers them. “Me either. It’s just easier.”

Sho twists his hand to hold Jet’s properly. He then treats Jet to a sardonic smirk. 

“Since when do we take the easy way?”

Jet grins broadly. “Never.”

-

Smellerbee squints suspiciously at Jet and Sho over her breakfast. “What happened?” She demands, her voice flat as if already expecting bad news.

Longshot looks up to see their answers, having been reading Sho’s additions to the papers since last night.

“I couldn’t sleep, so Sho and I got to talking, and we realized some things,” Jet summarizes, amused when Sho snorts into his bowl.

“Oh great,” Smellerbee sighs, which is an understandable reaction, Jet has to admit.

It certainly seems like that something drastic happens every time Jet and Sho are left to their combined devices.

“Let me just ask outright,” Jet starts, determined. “Do you two want to fight the Dai Li, or leave Ba Sing Se?”

“We could stay here and just _not_ fight,” Sho puts in the third option while Smellerbee and Longshot are taken aback by the sort of ultimatum Jet just proposed.

“Because that’s worked out well so far.” Jet rolls his eyes, rocking in place as Sho shoves his shoulder.

“We haven’t _tried_ yet, now that we know the stakes,” Sho counters. 

“Sometimes I think you just like to argue,” Jet says, and now Sho rolls _his_ eyes.

“You’re both impossible,” Smellerbee states definitively before they can keep going back and forth at each other.

Longshot nods seriously.

Jet shrugs, because it’s not like he ever actively _tries_ to be difficult. 

“Blame the spirits,” Sho replies, a little serious but also like a joke.

Longshot cracks a smile. 

Smellerbee frowns thoughtfully. “Jet, what really happened? Why’d you change your mind?”

“Just as I said, Bee,” Jet answers, hands cupped around his cooling cup of tea. “We realized some things last night, including that I never _asked_ whether either of you even want to fight. I just assumed again.”

“But,” Smellerbee furrows her brow. “Aren’t the Dai Li a threat?”

“Only if we don’t follow the rules,” Sho points out in reminder. “We don’t _have_ to do anything. It’d take some getting used to, but I’d adjust. Eventually.”

Smellerbee just continues to look bewildered and confused. Jet can hardly blame her. He’s been all over the place the past couple days, swinging violently between combative and paranoid. If it’s exhaustive to live through, he can imagine how tiring it must be to watch and follow.

Longshot moves aside a few dishes and pointedly puts the stack of detailed visions into view.

“There’s also that,” Sho agrees with a grimace. “Jet’s right that it probably has to do with the Avatar. We could try to find him, if he needs help, or if any of these people and symbols mean anything for us. Or me, I guess.”

Jet looks over sharply at Sho’s correction. “Us,” He confirms deliberately. “You’re not going on your own.”

Longshot supports this statement immediately with a firm nod, his expression openly intent.

“Obviously,” Smellerbee asserts, poking Sho in the arm. “We’re halfway to breaking your record of three months. You’re not going anywhere without us and messing that up by dying.”

Sho seems surprised by their adamant responses, which is rich coming from someone who recently claimed that he wouldn’t mind dying to see them safe.

“You’re one of us now, Sho. We stick together,” Jet says, pleased that it’s finally been admitted.

It’s not asking, but it’s just as good to spontaneously and unanimously claim Sho as _theirs._

As for Sho, he actually blushes. “Alright,” He mumbles, all embarrassed but also flattered.

Jet mercifully decides not to tease him, before they get too far off track.

“So: stay or go? Fight or don’t?”

Smellerbee’s frown returns as she thinks on the final questions, weighing the options and what she knows as the risks for each. Longshot’s thoughtfulness is not as visible as he continues to finish breakfast, but neither does he give any indication of a decision yet.

Jet already ate so he only has the tea to occupy him, while Sho takes his empty dishes to the sink to wash.

“What do you want to do, Jet?” Smellerbee asks, like she needs his answer to clarify something and not what she needs to make her choice. 

“I want to fight, but not here,” Jet tells her, just as he’d slowly worked out with Sho before the other two woke up this morning. “Ba Sing Se is too big for us when we can’t trust anyone. The Dai Li can never find out about Sho, or his visions. If we stay, we can’t- I don’t think we should risk fighting them.”

He has to correct himself from phrasing it like an absolute, as much as it feels like to him. He’s trying not to influence their decision.

Smellerbee takes in his answer, and then looks to their fourth.

“I hate it, but Jet’s right,” Sho admits grudgingly, crossing his arms tightly from where he leans against the counter. “If the Dai Li abduct, manipulate, and disappear their own civilians to keep the war out of Ba Sing Se, I _really_ don’t want to know what they’d do to me, or with the information we might have now about the Avatar.”

Smellerbee and Longshot get the clean, summarized version. Jet had gotten the tangled mess of frustration, guilt, anger, and fear that Sho had struggled with earlier before dawn. Sho doesn’t like being the most vulnerable, valuable member. He is (afraid) wary of earthbenders. The Dai Li are the worst combination for him.

“So the choice is stay here and don’t fight, or leave to find out why Sho’s had a vision about the Avatar,” Smellerbee concludes. She doesn’t entertain the idea of confronting the Dai Li for a second longer- or at all, since they hadn’t yet gotten to that point.

She probably never expected any of this when she’d asked Jet about what the city would be like weeks ago. Jet couldn’t have either. He nods to confirm her conclusion. 

“I think…” She starts again, slower; carefully forming her decision aloud while she makes the choice. “We should stay long enough to get more supplies. We need a better idea of where to go, too, once we’re out.”

Longshot agrees, pointing at the inked visions to suggest that maybe Sho will have more. Sho grimaces in reluctance, but he doesn’t deny that having more information before they leave Ba Sing Se would be more beneficial.

“Are we agreed then?” Jet asks his squad, before he gets ahead of himself _again,_ needing to know for certain without _any_ doubts. “We’re leaving Ba Sing Se?”

Longshot nods without hesitation. He turns to look at Sho fully, enough that Jet can no longer see his face. Whatever Sho sees in Longshot’s expression has him quickly averting his eyes, embarrassed again (in a good way, Jet thinks).

“I think we should,” Smellerbee affirms quietly, but no less firm in her conviction. “It wouldn’t be a real fresh start here, even if we don’t fight.”

“I’m sorry it’s not what you wanted, Bee,” Sho apologizes softly, still stubbornly holding onto misplaced guilt, as if it’s remotely his fault that this city is built on maintaining a lie.

Smellerbee shakes her head. “I don’t think there can _ever_ be a fresh start, not until the war’s finally over.”

Jet feels awfully shitty for willfully ignoring or dismissing every sign Smellerbee’s ever gave about wanting to finally _stop_ fighting. At the same time, however, he’s so proud of her. She’s said all of this without once looking at Jet for permission or acceptance. The only questions she’s asked were for clarification, to better make her decision without depending on Jet’s first or alone.

Longshot’s the same; quietly confident that this is the right choice. He’d looked to assure Sho first, and whatever passed between them will stay that way. Jet’s proud of him too.

They’ve all come so far, having made so much progress since Gaipan. Jet’s able to recognize these changes as good things. He’s learned how to check himself. He’s not as ruthless, reckless, or heedless of the consequences. He refuses to fail anyone again.

“Then we better do our part to end it,” Jet says, determined anew. “How much do we need to stock up before we go?”

At the counter, Sho starts to check, but then he notices Smellerbee unhappily prodding at how her rice has gone cold while they’d talked. 

“Here,” He offers, crossing the room with his hands held out.

Smellerbee gives him the bowl without thought, quietly grateful as Sho heats it back up for her.

Watching them, it occurs to Jet that, despite new complications, he’s content. He knows what to do, and Sho is theirs to keep for good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s 4am. Mash X to Doubt Life Itself.  
> Recovery is not a linear process. I hope it feels realistic & not like I’m yanking ppl’s chains for cheap angst and plot twists.
> 
> As an author’s aside, Jet & the freedom fighters taking back BSS has been done before, & when I was struggling to decide how to do it myself, it occurred to me… Why even should I? The canon divergence is wreaking havoc outside Jet’s limited perspective, so why not let him join in? I’m much more satisfied going this direction, personally.
> 
> What was the point of them coming to BSS then? What do you think? I think they learned plenty. So I’m sry-not sry for being misleading, but that IS kinda the point, and I DO need to follow what’s best for myself as the author too. 
> 
> On a side-related note: Could you imagine the kind of things the Dai Li could do with a sleeper agent that doesn’t stay dead? NOTHING GOOD. Get Zuko-Sho tf outta there!
> 
> Long note here but I felt like I needed to put all that out there. Thx <3
> 
> (p.s. peep the updated tags ;3 )


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another "super early but still technically Wednesday" update bc my state has been iced/snowed over for days & that's not typical around here, so ppl don't know how to handle it x'D meaning my power/internet is not as reliable as it normally is, so better early than late.
> 
> the [map](https://external-preview.redd.it/D6COo3YmmcBYv5zwCHMdZO4kUjpczWZjNc-Td7cHH20.jpg?auto=webp&s=96e43204a9d64cee57ed9b0acda8f2e05106c180) is here again & definitely should be in another tab for this one.

“You know, scissors exist,” Sho comments, whetstone pausing on the curve of one broadsword.

“I don’t know how to use scissors,” Smellerbee retorts over Jet’s head, using her smallest, sharpest knife to trim his hair.

“Me either,” Jet admits, because he’ll be doing her hair next. “We’ve only ever had knives.”

“It’s the same concept, but easier,” Sho insists.

“When was the last time you even cut your hair?” Jet asks, amused.

“That’s unrelated,” Sho dismisses, resuming the repetition of sharpening the blade.

Jet snorts, allowing Sho the escape only because Smellerbee keeps nudging his head in different directions as she cuts. He’s gotten nicks on his ears before from getting distracted while she trims inches off the length. It’s better just to sit quietly and listen to the soothing sounds of Sho’s whetstone and the rain pattering outside.

It’s the first time they’ve seen rain since they left their forest, and they’re not in such a rush now as to bother with going out in the wet weather, so they stayed in for the day. It’s a good excuse to finally get those haircuts and sharpen the weapons they haven’t been able to use for all their short time in Ba Sing Se. Jet misses sparring, but knowing what he does now about the Dai Li, he’s grateful in hindsight to have never needed to use steel in the city.

It’d be a poor joke to be forced into a fight on their way out, after having committed to avoiding conflict. 

“I don’t think so,” Sho says, likely in response to Longshot, who’s outside Jet’s vision.

Jet decides not to be nosy. If it’s important, they’ll all be told eventually. If not, Jet obviously doesn’t need to know everything.

“Okay, all done,” Smellerbee declares, freeing Jet from the itchy feeling of loose hair on his neck as she brushes him off.

“Thanks, Bee,” He says, scrubbing a hand through his shorter hair habitually. 

“Not bad,” Sho remarks, somewhere between honest and teasing. Smellerbee still flips him off and he just grins cheekily and switches to his other sword.

“Your turn,” Jet says, moving aside and brushing more loose hair off his clothes and onto the blanket laid out to catch it all.

Smellerbee takes his spot and crosses her legs. She hands Jet the knife and takes off her headband. Jet sticks the blade between his teeth so he has both hands free to comb his fingers through her hair, straightening out sections to see how far they go. He used to do this for one of his kids once a week it’d seemed like. The motions return familiarly to his hands as he layers hair between his fingers and cuts with the knife.

The sounds of rain and Sho’s whetstone are still the only accompaniments, though Longshot occasionally shifts in Jet’s peripheral from where the archer straightens the fletching on his arrows. 

Jet brushes loose hair off Smellerbee’s neck and shoulders, checking that he hasn’t missed any areas and that the length looks even.

“You’re good,” He decides, and Smellerbee immediately gets up and shakes herself off. 

She takes the knife back from Jet, and he folds up the blanket to be taken outside and shaken clean when it’s no longer raining. Satisfied with his swords, Sho gives Smellerbee the whetstone to start on her collection of daggers. She puts her headband back on first, and then gets to work. Jet sits against the wall rather than further crowd the table. His tigerheads can wait their turn with the whetstone.

They should probably have more than one. He mentally adds it to the list on what’s left to get. Mostly it’s food, but also better cooking equipment, and some medicinal supplies. The last of which will be the most expensive, unfortunately. Privately, Jet worries that they won’t be the ones who need healing.

Sho hasn’t had any more visions, so the only tentative information they still have is the worrying implication of the Avatar being held captive at Pohuai Stronghold. Worst case scenario, it’s far too late to make any difference. Best case scenario, it hasn’t happened yet. There’s no way to know for sure either way, not until they get out of Ba Sing Se and back to where they can hear rumors about the war again.

Jet wishes it wasn’t risky to just stake out the train station and ask the new refugees coming in for news, but that’d draw far too much attention. He’d learned his lesson of just asking on the street. It’s safer to wait. If the spirits were in a rush, they should’ve been clearer on their message and intentions.

Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance. Odd, he thinks, because it hadn’t been the sort of rain that’s a storm. Sho quickly glances out the window, and Jet reconsiders whether it’d been thunder at all. Earthbending is a lot of grinding, growling, crashing noise as well. Who’s bending so loudly then?

Sho catches Jet’s eyes next, and he grimaces slightly in response to whatever he finds on Jet’s face.

“I don’t like earthbenders,” He says bluntly, seemingly without context and suddenly enough to startle Longshot and Smellerbee at the table with him.

Jet’s apologetic, because he hadn’t been intending to force Sho into openly admitting what has long gone unsaid, but nonetheless understood.

“We know?” Smellerbee returns, perplexed.

Sho sighs, and oddly decides to lay down flat on his back. “I don’t like being underground for the same reason,” He tells the ceiling, maybe because it’s easier.

“And I’m telling you this now, because if an earthbender puts me underground, I’ll lose it. I’ll firebend my way out, and it’ll be messy. I’d burn anyone who’s too close. If that happens, if any of you see me go under, you have to stay away. Don’t come after me.”

Their silence grimly receives his warning. Jet’s supposed as much for some time, and it doesn’t feel good to have it at last confirmed, especially with the foreboding addendum about firebending.

“For how long?” Smellerbee inquires quietly.

Sho turns his head on the floor to look up at her in silent question.

“How long do we leave you alone?” She clarifies.

“Until I stop burning,” He answers soberly. “Just… keep your distance, and call my name. I’ll remember eventually.”

Jet sincerely hopes they won’t need to put this advice into practice so soon, in trying to leave Ba Sing Se. He also dreads learning his own reaction towards the amount of fire Sho’s implied he’d use in such a scenario. Sho won’t be able to recognize friend from foe, and all Jet will see is a firebender out of control. It’s a certifiable disaster waiting to happen.

Unless Jet does something to start mitigating that chance. He can’t control earthbenders, or Sho’s trauma responses. The only thing Jet can change is himself.

“I need you to firebend,” He tells Sho, immediately drawing three pairs of surprised eyes that _this_ is his response.

“Right now?” Sho questions dubiously, propped up on his elbows to better see Jet.

Jet nods, because he might as well get started as soon as possible. “In front of me. I need to learn to tolerate it- at least _you_ bending. I can’t lose my head at the same time.”

“At the…” Smellerbee’s echo trails off, confusion resolving into realization of what Jet’s trying to prepare a response for.

Sho’s expression creases into some shape of sympathetic pain, or a close sibling of regret. He likely understands that they’d kill each other as traumas violently collided, and that only he would get back up, and then probably never forgive himself afterwards. He nods shortly and sits up all the way, crossing his legs in preparation. 

Jet closes the window behind him, and Longshot leans back to shut the sliding screen door to block the other window in the next room. Thus safeguarded from prying eyes, Sho breathes deeply and summons fire to his cupped hands.

The first lick of flame is little more than a flicker, as small as would sit on a candle wick. It’s the same tiny size that they’ve seen Sho meditate with before. It’s safe.

Jet realizes Sho is waiting for their permission. “Go bigger, but go slowly,” He advises. “Bee, Shot, mind your limits. Speak up when you need to.”

Privately, Jet doubts that either of them will reach their limits before him, but he wants them unafraid to say as much if it does happen. He doesn’t want them to feel like they need to outlast his restraint. Sho won’t be able to get very large or flashy with such close quarters, and he won’t burn them when he’s in control of himself. It might not make a difference if Jet can’t remember that.

He pointedly shifts further away from his tigerheads. Sho’s mouth quirks at the motion, but he doesn’t try to reassure or placate Jet pointlessly. He knows better than anyone that some things aren’t choices. He just coaxes his fire to bloom larger.

Jet’s heart rate speeds up, even though the difference in size is mere inches. The fire’s still small enough to be totally contained in Sho’s hands without any spilling over. It’s scarcely taller than his bent fingers. 

Jet blinks hard from staring straight into the fire, and reminds himself to breathe. He tells himself that in Sho’s hands, the flames might as well be a campfire. There’s no danger of being burned so long as Jet minds his own hands. Fire only kills when it’s uncontrolled, and at the whims of a bender. Sho won’t kill with fire, so long as no one gets too close when he can't control himself.

When no one speaks up against him, Sho adds more fuel to his flames. It’s big enough now to have multiple tongues, all hungrily licking at the air, trying to find something more to consume.

Jet forces himself to look up, from dangerous hands to burned face. Sho watches him back; steadily, patient, and with full awareness of himself and them. He’s dangerous, as he’s always been. He’s not the danger itself.

Jet consciously relaxes his hands and wills his hammering pulse to slow. He checks on his kids, its own exercise in looking away from the firebender.

Longshot’s brow is only slightly pinched. He’s more studious than anxious, but the latter’s still present. He’s calmer than Jet at the fire’s presence and size.

Jet glances in the other direction.

Smellerbee is both easier and harder to read. She has her fingers tightly laced in her lap, like trying to keep from reaching for her knives still laid out on the table before her. Her eyes flick constantly between Sho’s hands and face, needing the reminder of who’s bending as well. Her shoulders are oddly relaxed, despite her tension otherwise.

Sho waits until Jet meets his eyes again, a question in their sunlit depths. Jet wants to push further, but he doesn’t want to be pushed. He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to find his limit just yet.

Sho lets his fire start to wane. Jet watches the tongues shrivel and the hungry yellows deepen to orange. He’s never considered red to be on the cooler end of any spectrum, but it’s true for heat. Sho’s fire is a little wisp of red when he closes his hands, smothering it without so much as a hint of smoke. The room is darker in its absence.

Jet lifts his hands, feeling the other side of holding himself stiff for long minutes. “That went well,” He says, rubbing his eyes until the lingering light spot diminishes.

Someone snorts gently, too soft to be an identifiable voice. Jet’s too relieved to be offended. It is kind of funny, in a sad, sick sort of way. Sho hadn’t budged an inch as he bent a mere handful of fire, and they’d all tensely sat there and tried their hardest not to react.

“We’ll need to keep practicing that,” Jet adds, dropping his hands into his lap. “Once a day or something.”

Sho nods in simple acceptance, trusting Jet to test and train his limits on his own prerogative. He won’t firebend without prompting, warning, or unavoidable consequence. He’s safe.

Jet turns and opens the window back up, needing that extra bit of air. It’s still raining quietly, a vertical pattering without wind or chatter, as people head straight to their destinations without pause. He hasn’t heard a second roll of earthbending.

At the table, Smellerbee resumes sharpening her knives.

-

“You want to leave… Ba Sing Se,” The outer wall guard repeats disbelievingly.

At his back looms the great breach in the wall, the only remaining sign of the Fire Nation’s five hundred day siege on the city. Only the bottom has been shoddily blocked by a pile of boulders just high enough to inconvenience passage. Only a pair of earthbenders man its defense on the ground, with the closest reinforcements high on top of the wall.

It doesn’t make _sense_ to leave such a glaring weakness so exposed. Jet channels his confounded frustration into his act.

“We don’t _want_ to leave, but we received a letter from our families. They need our help, or they won’t make it to the city.”

A plaintive, desperate cry for lost family is received better than the ludicrous desire to leave the world’s safest city, which is why they’d planned this excuse ahead of time. It got them through the inner wall checkpoint with sympathetic looks, without permits for reentry. It erases the disbelieving frowns now.

“You won’t be able to come back this way,” The other soldier informs them apologetically, but firmly. “All refugees must enter through the southern checkpoints. You shouldn’t even be leaving this way.”

Jet lets his face fall as if they didn’t know this already, and Smellerbee makes a soft sound of dismay to match. The pair of adults scramble to reassure a bunch of disappointed kids.

“You could be escorted along the wall! You wouldn’t be forced out into the plain. How far away is your family from here?”

Jet rubs his wrist under his nose. “The letter said something about ruins to the west of here? Just across the river? It’s why we came this way, because it's so much closer.”

It’s clear that neither earthbender knows said ruins, but the story would hold water if checked on a map or ever in person.

“That river _is_ too wide to safely cross,” The second soldier muses with a thoughtful hand to his chin. “You’ll have to go north to find someplace shallow enough to cross. It’s far.”

“We have to go anyway,” Jet insists, both to maintain the story and unwilling to allow the guards to see holes in it the more they attempt to be helpful. “Can you save us time and let us through? Please?”

The men share another look, confirming that there’s nothing _they_ can do, and whether it’s worth a reprimand allowing refugees to leave through the breach in the wall instead of a checkpoint.

“You kids be safe,” The first soldier bids as he steps aside to allow them passage. “Watch the rocks on your way up. Some might be loose.”

“Thank you,” Jet expresses fervently, waving his fighters ahead first before the guards change their mind.

Sho keeps his face downturned, wary of the outer wall earthbenders who’d best know what eyes as bright as his mean. He makes the climb first, testing footholds and forging the safe path over the debris. 

Jet gives the soldiers one last nod and then follows after his squad.

As slow and bureaucratic as it’d been to enter Ba Sing Se, it’s startlingly easy and quick to climb over a pile of rocks and leave. They’re back out into the war, and yet safer out here where the Dai Li aren’t a threat anymore. It really is a poor joke, to be running towards the Fire Nation and away from the Earth Kingdom.

Jet slides down the last of the dirt and gravel, walking to where his squad waits for him.

“That went well,” Sho comments, a dry tease of Jet’s exact words from the other day. He grins as Jet shoves him playfully, easily regaining his balance by starting to lead the way west.

-

The soldier at Ba Sing Se’s outer wall may have thought the river too wide to cross, and ordinarily he’s probably right. Most people don’t have an archer of Longshot’s skill and talent. All it takes is finding where the opposite shore is closest, and a rope tied to an arrow. 

Their side of the rope is tied off to a tree to pull it taut, and then Smellerbee is shimmying across first as the lightest, hanging upside down off the rope like the hog monkeys from back in their forest. Once she’s safely on her feet across the river, the boys untie their side so she can pull enough slack across to tie her end securely to another tree. They’re carrying too much to trust the chi in the buried arrowhead alone with the extra weight of supplies.

Sho climb-crawls his way across next in the same way, because Longshot doesn’t want to even give them the option of bickering over who stays behind last. Jet is forced across third anyway by Longshot’s argument.

Alone on the original shore, Longshot unties the rope from its anchoring point. Rope tied to an arrow once more, it’s sunk into a new anchor point with a liberal use of chi. Longshot shimmies across to join them. Once he’s on his feet beside them, Longshot gives the rope a pointed tug, and the arrowhead easily pops loose.

The rope is pulled in out of the water, coiled up, and both arrows go back in Longshot’s quiver. None of them got so much as damp.

“That went very well,” Jet comments, pleased and honestly not trying to continue a pattern from yesterday.

“Stop,” Smellerbee still complains, and Sho laughs hard enough he actually makes noise this time. It still sounds more like wheezing than anything.

They head southwest rather than northwards towards the old ruins on Sho’s map, following the edge of the lake. After walking for most of the day, they repeat Longshot’s rope trick to get across the next gap of water that evening, deciding to make camp for the night on a small island for its defensible position. 

Sho siphons flame off the campfire for their daily practice at getting used to him bending. He bends steadily larger flares until Jet has to tell him to stop because he’d caught his hands jerking to his sword hilts. Sho extinguishes the fire so swiftly that the campfire simultaneously goes out, leaving them in sudden darkness. He waits until Jet gives him the okay to sheepishly relight it.

They’ve transitioned back into a single man watch shifts during the night. Sho still takes over right around dawn.

Crossing the water on the other side of the island goes much the same as the day before, if quicker as they grow more practiced at the motions. It’s a pretty open area ahead of them, save for the sparse scattering of stubby trees that dot the lake’s coastline. The tall grass makes Jet wary of holes and gopher snakes, so they still hug the sandy shoreline rather than cut directly across the peninsula further inland. 

The final river in their path west is the widest yet, though equal to the one they’d followed back to the ferry waystation all those weeks ago after leaving the Si Wong Desert behind. They hope to hail a passing boat for passage across, if any are available. Jet isn’t looking forward to the risk of swimming if one doesn’t pass in a week’s time.

“You did _not,”_ Sho disbelieves Smellerbee’s time-passing story of how one time, she and Sneers coordinated a surprise attack to string up ten soldiers in the trees by their laces.

“Sneers is _really_ strong,” Smellerbee explains, straight faced.

“Their boots are metal! They don’t _have_ laces!” Sho exclaims, throwing up his hands.

Jet can’t help but break, laughing at how indignant Sho is that this detail doesn’t match the story. He almost trips over a piece of driftwood in the process.

“Damn,” Smellerbee laments as the gig is up. “Okay, fine, it was just with rope, and only four people instead of ten, but it’s still true. Sneers _is_ really that strong. He tossed soldiers up in the trees every raid.”

“He totally did,” Jet confirms that much, still chuckling. “The only one stronger than him is Pipsqueak, but that’s just no comparison. Pipsqueak is stronger than everyone.”

It still aches to talk about those he’d lost due to his own folly, but this is a good hurt of nostalgia. There had been genuinely good times, many times before Jet had sullied what the freedom fighters stood for. He wants to remember his kids like that. One day, Jet wants to find all his kids again, to apologize as they deserved to hear from him. Only then will he ever be truly redeemed, in the eyes of those who mattered.

For now, it’s still good to share these stories with Sho, who calls them all menaces to society. Smellerbee proudly agrees.

The mirth swiftly turns to seriousness when Longshot whistles for attention. He points further ahead of them, signaling that he’s spotted a boat. When Jet shades his eyes and squints, he can just make out the bow of a wooden ship emerging around the bend of land and tall grass. A few seconds later, Jet can see its sails. They’re blue.

His mouth goes a little slack in surprise. What even _are_ those chances?

“Is that the Southern Water Tribe fleet?” Sho speaks Jet’s astounded disbelief aloud.

Longshot nods.

“What’re they doing _here?”_ Smellerbee questions incredulously.

Jet shrugs helplessly as he watches the leading ship advance into the lake proper. For some reason, the fleet is sailing from the north. Perhaps they’re on their way to rendezvous with Kingdom allies along the lake, closer to Ba Sing Se. 

“We need to signal them,” Sho bursts out hurriedly, darting forward and heading closer to the water. “Before they get too far to see us!”

Jet jolts instinctually into following, realizing that Sho’s right. Not only do they need a boat to cross the river, but it’s the Southern Water Tribe. They’ll have news about the war, and they’re related to the vision Sho had. This incredible stroke of luck can’t be missed.

“Stay back!” Sho suddenly barks, and Jet pulls up short on reflex with Smellerbee and Longshot skidding at his side to also heed the sharp order. Glancing backwards to check on the distance between them, Sho then punches a large plume of fire into the air.

It’s all yellow- bright and loud and _hot_ and far too close.

“Sho!” Smellerbee yelps in protesting alarm, grabbing onto Jet with both hands.

The contact startles Jet out of his shock. His swords are in his hands.

“Stay there!” Sho yells back, his expression twisted with regret when he glances backwards at them again, but he continues pushing forward and drops his pack for ease of movement. Further from them and closer to the water, Sho skids to a stop in the sand. He braces his legs in a wide stance, sweeps his arms out from his sides (top to bottom), in towards his chest, and **up** with both fists.

The fire is _huge_ and blazing bright, _roaring_ tall into the air. There’s more white in it than orange. It burns Jet’s eyes and Smellerbee’s fingers are bruising on his arm. Longshot steps in front of them both, bow still on his back, as Sho’s fire quickly fades down from its dazzling, ferocious, impossible to miss display.

Out on the water, the Water Tribe ships are suddenly a frenzy of activity. They’re turning around towards the peninsula, towards Sho’s blatant signal.

Sho lists forward, staggering until he catches himself with his hands on his knees.

Jet jerks forward thoughtlessly, like a reflex. He can scarcely breathe around the pulse pounding in his throat. He drops his swords impatiently shaking Smellerbee off - or maybe that’s why she lets him go- and shucks off his pack, too.

“Are you insane?!” He bellows, sprinting at their _impossible_ firebender. “Sho, you lunatic! What were- _were_ you even _thinking?!”_

Sho straightens unsteadily, half turning just in time for Jet to crash into him. He bodily flinches, but Jet just hauls him in tighter.

“You scared the shit out of me,” He says harshly into Sho’s hair. “Don’t _ever_ do that again.”

“I’m- what?” Sho stutters into Jet’s right ear, his hands flutter light over Jet’s back. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

“Oh, I’m pissed. If Smellerbee hadn’t grabbed me, I probably would’ve attacked you, so you’re an utter moron,” Jet assures heatedly, pushing back to hold Sho by the shoulders. “Why did you _do_ that?!”

“I had to signal the ship!” Sho yells back, responding automatically to Jet’s volume with his own, gesturing sharply out to the lake.

“Longshot could’ve fired an arrow with a message! If you’d waited for even two seconds!” Jet shouts, fingers gripping tighter on Sho’s shoulders.

Sho’s mouth opens, and then closes. “Oh,” He says feebly.

Jet snorts thickly and crushes Sho into another hug. “You’re such an impulsive moron. What was your plan? They probably turned around to kill you.”

“Stop yelling at me while you’re hugging me. It’s really confusing,” Sho complains quietly, but his hands are firmer on Jet’s back now.

“You deserve it,” Smellerbee interjects, caught up to them and likely jabbing Sho in the ribs in reprimand, judging by the way he jolts in Jet’s arms. “How are you so good at helping Jet plan stuff but so stupid on your own?”

“Too many blows to the head?” Sho suggests, not quite like a joke but enough like one to prompt Smellerbee into an incredulous snort of her own.

It’s too bad Longshot has never snorted in his life and is unlikely to start now. Sho could’ve earned the trifecta.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I wasn’t thinking,” Sho apologizes into Jet’s shoulder. “I didn’t give you enough of a warning.”

“No, you didn’t,” Jet sighs worn agreement, finally releasing the other. “But it happened, and there was no harm done, so I forgive you.”

“You still shouldn’t do that again,” Smellerbee reasserts, latching onto Sho’s sleeve with an expression of mingled scolding and relief. She’d dragged Jet’s pack along, it now resting on the ground behind her.

Sho ducks his head regretfully to their words. “I know. Sorry.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much, Sho,” Jet counsels, taking his tigerheads back from Longshot with a nod of thanks. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about now.”

“How much do we need to tell them?” Smellerbee asks, warily watching where the Water Tribe ships anchor just off shore ahead of them, and a few men in blue and navy armor disembark with splashes and bone-white weapons in hand.

“As much as relates to them,” Jet allows, pointedly stepping in front of Sho. “Stay on guard, but we’re trying to get information, not make enemies.” 

“You don’t need to- ow! Bee, stop stabbing me with your bony fingers,” Sho protests behind Jet.

“You’ve lost your right to make decisions today,” Smellerbee retorts flatly, and Jet has to grin as Sho subsides with an incomprehensible mumble, unable to really defend himself.

A pair of Water Tribesmen approach Jet’s squad on foot, while the rest of the men secure their ships and prepare to provide back up if necessary. 

Jet clears his throat. “We’re not your enemies,” He declares at once, loud and confident to be heard clearly before the distance is completely closed to a discussion-appropriate proximity. 

“We’ll determine that ourselves,” The Water Tribesman in front responds. His wolf helmet is impressively intimidating and he looks… faintly familiar under it. The man flanking him is taller, wearing less armor to account for the bandages that creep out of his neckline and cover his fingers.

It’s this second man that has Jet pulling a double take. The longer hair, leaner face, and the sideways crescent necklace… There’s _no_ way.

“You aren’t Fire Nation soldiers,” The armored man with the beard acknowledges the fairly obvious. “But one of you is a firebender. Who were you signaling?”

“You,” Jet returns seriously, refocusing. “The fire was to hail you _only._ It wasn’t a signal for anyone else. We just needed your attention before you got out of reach.”

“Is that so? And why did you need to talk to us so badly that you took such a risk?” The apparent leader questions.

“My name is Jet,” He starts with an introduction. “These are my freedom fighters, Longshot, Smellerbee, and Sho. Sho’s our firebender. He’s spirit-blessed.”

Sho makes this scoffing-choking noise to be called blessed instead of cursed, but he doesn’t further undermine Jet’s attempt to put him in a more favorable light. 

Jet pretends not to hear it, continuing. “The spirits have given him visions before, and now we know that his most recent one had at least one truth. We can prove it.”

“Then do so,” The Water Tribesman commands patiently.

Jet half turns, finding that Longshot has already begun digging into his pack. Longshot carefully tugs out the folded stack of inked images from Sho’s vision, and Jet holsters his swords at his belt in order to take them into hand. He nods at Longshot in thanks, and then turns back to the Tribesmen. He unfolds the stack and flips quickly to the right page.

First, he confirms with his own eyes that miraculously, these are the same men as the portraits. Upon reaching a positive identification, Jet wordlessly extends his arm to offer the sheet. There’s no information on it beyond their faces and the obvious description of them being Southern Water Tribe. Sho hadn’t remembered enough details to extend his notes that far onto a paper already crowded by two portraits. It’s safe enough to share.

The apparent leader also puts his weapon on his belt. He steps forward just far enough to take the paper, and then glances down. Initially, there’s only a confused frown. Once the portraits become clear and he reads the words, however, surprise takes over his severe expression. 

“This is… surprisingly exact,” He acknowledges with justifiable puzzlement. “You said this came from a vision?”

“I saw your faces,” Sho answers before Jet can do so for him. “And your ships. You were preparing for battle. That was all I remembered after waking up.”

Both Water Tribesmen look past Jet at Sho’s words, and Jet has to resist the urge to protectively shift further in front of their firebender. He lifts the stack of papers to bring their attention back to _him._

“We have other information, but that,” He points at the paper the apparent leader is holding. “Is why we hailed you so… much,” Jet settles on the word lamely. “We couldn’t miss this chance.”

“I see,” The first warrior says. He turns when his second joins him closer again, giving the other man the paper to see for himself what it contains, and then removes his helmet. He looks even more like his portrait without it.

“I am Hakoda, Chief of the Southern Water Tribe and this fleet. This is my second in command, Bato. What else can you tell us about this vision?”

“Not much,” Sho admits, his tone somewhere between grudging and regretful. “Visions from the spirits aren’t always clear, or time-sensitive. It felt like a dream, and I remembered only pieces.” He’s carefully choosing his words not to be disparaging again about the spirits’ meddling.

“We think it had to do with the Avatar,” Jet supplies their best theory. “Do you have any news of him?”

“The Avatar?” Hakoda repeats with a dubiously cocked brow. “What news is there to be had from someone who hasn’t been seen in a hundred years?”

Well, that answers the question by itself.

“The Avatar’s alive,” Jet informs the warriors bluntly. “And he may have been captured by the Fire Nation. It’s why we’re here, hoping to get passage across the river. There’s a stronghold by the name of Pohuai further west of here, and to the north. It’s through the mountains, and only a few days on foot from here.”

Hakoda takes the portrait of the Avatar and the sketch of the stronghold that Jet hands him next as further proof for his claims. If he recognizes any further phrases Sho jotted down on the pages, it can only help. It doesn’t feel as dangerous to share the information once introductions have been shared, a temporary alliance in the making.

“This is concerning news,” The chief admits, sharing the images with Bato’s eyes. 

“It gets worse,” Jet shares unfortunately. “Two of your own were traveling with the Avatar. We don’t know what happened to them either.”

Hakoda and Bato look up sharply at Jet’s words, far more interested in this information over an Avatar they didn’t know had returned until just now. Jet offers Katara’s and Sokka’s portraits finally.

Hakoda sucks in air sharply as soon as he lays eyes on their faces, and Bato’s expression drops with dismay. It’s an understandable reaction to learning that two of their peoples’ children may very well be in grave danger.

“Where…” Hakoda clears his throat, meeting Jet’s eyes with thinly held desperation. “These are my children.”

Oh.

Oh no, Jet realizes further with growing dread as he stares at the father of the girl he used, and the boy he tried to have killed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, the 500 day siege is NOT a typo ;)  
> Also for the record, trying to cross reference screen caps with the world map, in an attempt to figure out what path the SWT fleet would’ve taken when in S1 was a headache and a half. That rendezvous map in ‘Bato of the Water Tribe’ is useless. It makes NO sense. After some time I just had to shrug and say eh, close enough for creative liberty. 
> 
> Squad has learned Hugging! It’s super effective!!
> 
> Character tags will be updated in a few days (or by the next chapter) to avoid spoiling this encounter for most readers.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve now passed 200 kudos & over 2k hits!! :D thx all!!<3
> 
> Credit to [MuffinLance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24322483) for the names of characters I use for some of the Water Tribe.
> 
> [map](https://external-preview.redd.it/D6COo3YmmcBYv5zwCHMdZO4kUjpczWZjNc-Td7cHH20.jpg?auto=webp&s=96e43204a9d64cee57ed9b0acda8f2e05106c180)

“We don’t know enough to be certain,” Sho takes over in a rush, while Jet’s still struggling to face the abrupt, very real consequences of his past choices. “They may have already escaped, or it hasn’t happened yet at all. We need to get close enough to the stronghold to check.”

“There’s also a chance then, that they’ve been captured as well, and for some time,” Hakoda grimly and smartly concludes, forcing Sho to reluctantly nod at the possibilities. “Then you will have our aid on your spirit-quest. For the Avatar, and my children, and our Tribe.”

“Thank you, Chief Hakoda.” Sho bows in formal respect and gratitude.

Jet numbly takes the papers back when Hakoda returns them. The chief turns back towards his fleet, only to pause when his second does not follow.

“Bato?”

The taller man is staring intently at Sho, Jet realizes. This time, he gives into the protective urge to step further in front of Sho. Bato’s injury is probably a burn, and Sho’s a firebender who just revealed that the chief’s children may have been imprisoned (or killed) by the Fire Nation. Sho is innocent of that crime, and Jet won’t allow Bato to find a convenient excuse for misdirected vengeance.

Bato refocuses on Jet after he’s intruded on the man’s line of sight. His expression is surprisingly difficult to read.

“Do you swear safe passage?” Jet demands of Hakoda, because Sho’s wellbeing comes before his own crimes of the past. He doesn’t look away from Bato.

“I give you my word,” Hakoda assures, placing a hand on his second’s good shoulder. “If I have your word not to harm any of my own as well.”

Jet cannot give it.

“I swear it,” Sho tries to promise in his stead, as the firebender that would be under the most suspicion among Water Tribesmen on wooden ships and cloth sails.

Hakoda glances at him, receiving Sho’s word, but his eyes return warily to Jet’s silence.

Jet cannot lie to him.

“I did wrong by your children, when I met them almost two months ago now,” He confesses, hearing Smellerbee inhale in surprise behind him. “I tried to hurt them. If we find them again, they’ll tell you that I’m an enemy. Sick, even.”

Hakoda’s eyes narrow, and Jet’s skin feels clammy with shame. The father’s frigid blue eyes flick briefly to the firebender when Sho presses closer to Jet in silent support. Jet draws on Sho’s presence; his reminder.

“They were right. I had been. I was wrong. I went too far. I regret what I did. I’m trying to make up for my past, to right my wrongs.”

Hakoda listens with utter stillness, one hand holding his helmet and the weapon untouched at his belt.

“I won’t attack your men, or your children again.” Jet gives his word, completely aware that it may as well be worthless after what he just confessed, but refusing to hide from his responsibility. He has changed, and he will own up to what he did rather than lie and hide like a coward to get his way.

Sho’s hand sneaks around Jet’s elbow, squeezing in what might be approval. Jet’s grateful for him.

Hakoda’s sharp eyes glance past Jet once more. “You inspire loyalty in those who still follow you,” He recognizes, before meeting Jet’s eyes again. “You could have lied. I respect that you did not, and that you confessed at all. I, however, cannot trust your word. I will judge you by your actions from here on out, until I hear of your crimes from my children, as those you have wronged.”

Jet’s unclear on whether a response is expected, but he still nods to accept Hakoda’s postponement of judgment. It’s an unexpectedly and surprisingly fair offer, and probably more than he deserves.

“I’ll warn you now,” Sho suddenly speaks, his voice low and dangerous enough to make the hairs on Jet’s neck stand up. “Whatever you decide, I’ll burn your fleet to ash before I let you hurt him.”

Jet’s heart tries to do something complicated and convoluted. 

“I’d help,” Smellerbee promises, and Longshot takes Jet’s other arm in hand in wordless assurance that he feels the same; a display of protection for the Tribesmen as well.

Jet’s heart settles on an aching, soaring sensation. Strangely, his squad’s reactions prompt Hakoda to smile. 

“Loyal indeed. Are you worthy of it?”

“I’m trying to be,” Jet replies, his voice coming out rough.

Hakoda inclines his head in scant approval. “As all leaders always should. Allow me to apprise my men of the situation, and then we will discuss on how to approach this Fire Nation stronghold.”

Jet can only nod.

Hakoda turns to his fleet, and this time, Bato does not hesitate to follow his leader.

Jet blinks, and Sho has seized _him_ in a crushing hug.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” He whispers fiercely into Jet’s hair.

Jet exhales shakily and presses his hands to Sho’s shoulder blades. It’s… really nice to hear actually.

“Thanks,” He mumbles thickly, and then gently pries Sho off his front- only for Smellerbee to immediately squeeze into the gap and hug Jet instead.

“ _I_ think it was stupid to complicate everything,” She mutters into his chest. “But it was brave, too. I guess.”

Jet’s smile emerges honestly as he pats her shoulder. “Better they find out from me over Katara, I’d say.”

Smellerbee scoffs and lets him go. Longshot’s expression is as subtly proud as Sho’s is openly pleased. Jet clears his throat, somewhere in the awkward middle of flattered and embarrassed by their reception.

“Anyway. We weren’t counting on a fleet joining up with us. How much does that change the plan?”

Sho gives Jet a pointed smirk for the redirection, but he returns the favor Jet has shown him before and doesn’t call further attention to it.

“Depends on them,” He says, nodding ahead to where Hakoda is conferring with his warriors. “The Yuyan Archers will tear a frontal assault apart, and it’ll take at least another week to sail there by any waterway. Since it’s his kids apparently at risk, and he seems like the type who actually cares about what happens to them, the chief may decide to take the most direct route- which is ours.”

Jet has to take a moment- a very long one; long enough for Sho to glance around at the awkward pause to find them all staring at him.

“What?”

“Sometimes, I really don’t understand how you think,” Jet sighs, massaging his temples. “Who?”

“Who what?” Sho blinks back, seemingly not following Jet’s own confusion about the details he just spilled out thoughtlessly.

“Spirits,” Smellerbee swears under her breath. “What did you say about archers and why didn’t you mention them earlier?”

“The Yuyan? Didn’t I?” Sho returns, bewildered for a moment longer and then he closes his eyes in realized pain. “I didn’t.”

“Nope,” Jet confirms, absently straightening out the papers wrinkled from his grip. “Great job.”

“Shut up,” Sho replies automatically. “I forgot you wouldn’t know. They _are_ kind of a secret outside the Fire Nation.”

“I’m gonna assume they’re archers,” Jet says sarcastically.

“You’re not funny,” Sho deadpans. “But yes, they are. Imagine a dozen or more of Longshot.”

Jet does, immediately frowning. Longshot himself is uncomfortable at the prospect and conversation in general. It’s probably disconcerting to realize the enemy has your specific skill in tenfold.

“Exactly,” Sho affirms in response to their reactions. “The fleet won’t stand a chance.”

“Well, good thing a frontal assault was never in the plan,” Jet asserts.

“Do _they_ know that?” Smellerbee asks, gesturing at the ships and collection of blue and navy.

Sho grimaces. “I’ll tell them. I’ll have to, because they probably don’t even know where the stronghold is aside from what you just told them.”

West of their current position, and to the north. Depending on their maps, the Tribe could figure it out. 

Hakoda struck Jet as an intelligent, capable leader. He likely wouldn’t sail his entire fleet right up to the docks of a Fire Nation stronghold within the colony borders, but any tactics after that are an unknown. Jet obviously has exactly zero experience with naval warfare. 

As a father of children at probable risk, it’d make sense if Hakoda chooses the most direct route through the mountains, even if it splits up his forces. He’d certainly reacted like a parent who cares about his kids, upon receiving their portraits and the news of them traveling with the Avatar.

Sho’s offhand comment about it doesn’t imply good things about _his_ parents. It’s not a question to be asked right now- or ever, really. It’s been a little while since Jet last put a question in the mental box.

“Well, there’s nothing to do but wait on them,” He comments, folding the stack of papers and crossing his arms.

Sho hums idle agreement, mirroring the pose comfortably. Smellerbee hefts her pack off and sits down, which is a good idea, if Jet weren’t too restless. Longshot puts down his pack as well, but remains standing too.

Now that he has the time, Jet makes an effort to wrap his brain completely around the onslaught of information that’s happened in such rapid succession. 

First, the inconceivable stroke of luck in stumbling across the path of the Southern Water Tribe fleet at all. Jet’s not nearly skilled enough at arithmetic to calculate those odds, much less that the first two Tribesmen they met were the same from Sho’s vision, and one is the father of Katara and Sokka. The chances are so incredibly unlikely that it _has_ to be more spiritual intervention. It’s the one thing that makes more sense than sheer improbable coincidence. 

It all connects now that Jet knows the relation: Hakoda, his children, and the Avatar they traveled with. The confirmation lends weight to the theory that everything in Sho’s vision ties back to Aang.

Speaking of Sho, that display of firebending had been startling, to say the least. They’ve already talked it out for the most part, and hopefully there won’t be a next time- or one quite like it. It proved that Jet’s definitely not ready for anything bigger than a handful of fire.

“Hey,” He mentions, shifting his weight to knock gently into Sho. “Why’s your fire yellow?”

It’d been _so_ bright, nothing like the oranges and reds he normally held.

Sho rocks on his heels, squaring his stance more. “I needed it to be noticeable, so I didn’t hold back,” He explains with lingering apology in his tone.

“You can change the color though?” Smellerbee inquires, poking Sho in the ankle. She’s right to wonder. They’ve never seen anyone with just yellow fire before, and they’d fought a lot of firebenders over the years.

“It’s the heat that does that,” Sho explains, glancing down at her. 

“So you’re controlling the heat, not the color,” She concludes, and Sho nods. “Or not, since you said you weren’t holding back.”

He _had,_ which means-

“ _That’s_ you with _less_ control?” Jet asks, dismayed.

Sho swiftly winces. “I had- yeah,” He admits guiltily. “When I let it go, it gets too hot, which is why it turns yellow. I don’t usually let it get that big either.”

“You staggered,” Smellerbee reminds. “Why?”

“I haven’t bent something that big in a long time,” Sho answers, quick to take the distraction. “It took a lot out of me at once.”

“Are you okay?” Smellerbee prompts, and Jet frowns in concern even if he’s still grappling with the revelation of less control equals hotter flames.

“I’m fine,” Sho predictably assures. “The sun’s out, so my chi’s already building again.”

“Your- wait, is that why you bask all the time?” Jet realizes in the question.

“Bask?” Sho echoes with a measure of amusement.

“Like a viper-lizard,” Jet shamelessly affirms. “Or a pygmy-puma.”

Smellerbee snickers and even Longshot nods in agreement to the comparison.

“You know what? Yeah, sure. That’s why I _bask.”_ Sho embraces their teasing, coaxing Jet easily into a grin.

All those times on the fringe of the Si Wong Desert and sunny days off in Ba Sing Se suddenly make a lot more practical sense as a firebender thing as well as a Sho thing. Basking in the sun to fuel his chi, which fuels his bending.

“Heads up,” Smellerbee warns, and Jet quickly refocuses from mirth to seriousness for the second time today already.

Bato is walking to rejoin them. “You may join us to discuss our plan of approach,” He relates once he’s close enough to be heard without yelling, and then walks no further. He’s just polite enough to be diplomatic and doesn’t look at Sho twice.

Jet merely nods yet again, reaware that he isn’t in the Tribe’s good graces. They all retrieve and shoulder their packs, and they start to follow Bato. Sho leans in close over Jet’s left shoulder before they’ve gone more than a few steps. 

“Should I do the talking this time?” He asks, soft enough to be private.

Jet appreciates that he asked over just taking charge, but he still nods permission and agreement. Even as a firebender, Sho’s the only one who hasn’t wronged a member of the Southern Water Tribe. With Jet’s open admission of guilt, Smellerbee’s unspoken share of said guilt (involving Sokka’s ‘long walk’), and Longshot’s general silence, that really does leave Sho alone as their voice here. Or at most, the one least likely to break the temporary alliance, on account of Hakoda already accepting Sho’s word on safe passage. The Tribe has more to lose upon breaking their word, after all. Sho is the one who has most of the information they need.

Upon receiving Jet’s agreement, Sho subtly lengthens his stride to pull ahead. Jet has to smother the urge to drag Sho behind him again immediately, as the looks of mistrust and suspicion become clearer the closer they walk to the Tribesmen.

Granted, after what their chief probably told them, it’s probable that Jet’s receiving his fair share of the dark looks. In this case, in this company, Jet’s worse than a firebender. It’s a sour realization that Jet immediately feels ashamed for disliking with who else is in front of him.

Sho is not one of _them_ \- the firebenders and other Nationals that burn and murder. Jet does him a disservice by sulking at being glared at worse, when Sho’s only crime here is being born a firebender. They’d _just_ been joking about Sho basking in the sun like a cat. He deserves better than Jet’s pettiness. 

Hakoda welcomes Bato back to his side with a nod. “This is Tuluk and Ranalok,” He introduces the two other men in their conference.

Jet makes an attempt to remember the names and faces in spite of the frigid eyes staring back. Just in case.

Sho gives the new additions the same half-bow of respect that Hakoda had received without reintroducing his squad or offering pleasantries. He earns another intense, searching look from Bato, Jet notices.

“There’s something you need to know about Pohuai Stronghold,” Sho starts off at once, confident and certain in front of the Tribe’s authority. “It’s the base of the Yuyan, an elite group of archers with profound talent and deadly aim. A frontal assault won’t work against them.”

His warning is received by a quartet of near identical frowns. Jet has to bite his tongue quite literally in order not to comment unnecessarily.

“I see,” Hakoda acknowledges, although he probably doesn’t truly understand the real scope of risk. “How were you expecting to approach then?”

“Our original plan was to start with the healing institute that’s nearby,” Sho explains, maintaining a cool tone of professionalism. “It’s in the mountains just southeast of the stronghold. It’s unaffiliated, and might have updated information concerning Pohuai.”

“Might,” Tuluk echoes, not fully disparaging but suggesting nothing good either. “How trustworthy is your information?”

“Better than the nothing you had before,” Sho answers without missing a beat, just on this side of sharp.

Jet has to make a conscious effort to keep a straight face.

“I’m not loyal to the Fire Nation, since that’s what you really asked,” Sho continues very pointedly. “I thought my face would’ve made that obvious enough.”

Tuluk does not go so far as to avert his eyes (like so many had in Ba Sing Se), but his frown does tighten with… something at Sho’s razor-laced statements. 

Jet bites down harder on his tongue, enough to hurt. Sho really doesn’t need any defending here, and it’s sort of glorious to witness.

“I appreciate you making that clear,” Hakoda says, landing somewhere in the range of diplomatic. “Considering your information, I trust that none of you are Fire Nation spies.”

Smellerbee scoffs to certify that conclusion, and Jet forces some shape of a smile to be taken however Hakoda chooses to interpret it. He doesn’t turn to check, but Longshot’s expression assuredly offers nothing.

“Look, we didn’t account for any extra help on this,” Sho starts over with an edge of impatience. “So why don’t you tell me what your part in this will be. If it’s a bad idea, I’ll let you know.”

Sho’s way too blunt for politics, Jet muses as he watches Hakoda’s warriors all scowl in response to the firebender’s thinly veiled demands and blatant irreverence for their leader. Yeah, Sho’s really something. He can play the silent role but saying the right lines isn’t his strong suit. 

“I haven’t decided anything beyond giving our aid,” Hakoda still responds calmly. “On account of not having enough information on where we’re going.”

Sho’s hackles ease by grudging inches. Jet digs out the map without needing to be asked as Sho half turns to him. He watches carefully as Sho takes it and bends to a vulnerable position to spread it flat on the ground. 

The chief only kneels for a better look. Bato joins him a moment after, but the other pair of warriors keep their feet, so Jet does as well.

“Pohuai is here,” Sho points out first, and then slightly southeast. “The institute is here. It can be reached by stairs to the south. Knowing this, how close do you want to bring your fleet?”

Hakoda cups his chin in hand as he appraises the waterways detailed on Sho’s map. 

As far as Jet can tell, there’s only two options to take: north or south, and both are lengthy paths around the landmass in the middle, with Pohuai more or less centered on that. He’s glad it’s not his choice to make; weighing the needs of the fleet against what Hakoda’s children may need as soon as possible.

Sho allows the chief time to think without interruption, sitting back on his heels. He meets Jet’s eyes and shrugs a reaction that Jet can’t completely parse out given the context. For lack of anything else to do, Jet passes him the inked out visions. Sho accepts the stack without much thought, absently thumbing through the pages. He tugs out the sketch of Pohuai and sets it on a part of the map that’s not relevant.

The Water Tribesmen glance at its presence, particularly Tuluk and Ranalok who wouldn’t have seen it already. The latter kneels to pick up the paper for a closer look.

“Is this the fortress?”

“Stronghold, yes,” Sho confirms.

“What’s the difference?” Ranalok asks, like he’s more curious about the correction than annoyed.

“Strongholds are smaller, and are supply hubs; for training and transport of troops and materials,” Sho supplies, and suddenly both Hakoda and Jet are paying more attention to this aside. “Fortresses are bigger, and have a larger, more permanent number of soldiers at any given time.”

“Sho,” Jet sighs, dragging a hand down one half of his face in mingled amusement and exasperation. “That’s another thing most people don’t know, that you should’ve mentioned sooner.”

“Wh- How am _I_ supposed to know what someone else _doesn’t_ know?” Sho protests defensively.

“Don’t start,” Smellerbee interjects while Jet’s wondering if Sho’s joke about too many blows to the head has any actual merit concerning aspects of Sho’s forgetfulness. “Why does it matter?”

“It means there are more opportunities than we were considering,” Hakoda answers her with a crafty sort of smile.

Jet can practically see the plan forming in the chief’s mind. He wonders if it’s similar to the few that he’s thinking up on his own now.

This new alliance may work out well after all.

-

“There’s room below deck for you to sleep,” Bato tells them. It’s neither an order nor an offer really, so Jet responds with a polite half-smile.

“We’re fine out here, thanks.”

If the chief’s second has assumed responsibility for the four of them, he’ll have to be a lot clearer and firmer with his requests before they heed his words. For the moment, it doesn’t seem to truly matter where they sleep, since Bato leaves them camped out at the back end of the boat without any further commentary.

It’s safer for everyone if the Tribe’s guests remain out in the open under the sky over being inside the ship and surrounded by uneasy allies. Sho’s potential trigger about ships aside, Jet doesn’t trust enough to put himself knowingly into a vulnerable position. It’s his own doing that the Tribe distrusts him specifically, and he still doesn’t regret owning up to his past errors, but that doesn’t mean he has to let the Tribe box him into a corner.

Jet has to live for his squad more than he has to atone for his crime against the Southern Water Tribe. He has to live for the _Tribe’s_ sake even, before they find out what Sho’s truly capable of if he decides they’re enemies. The Tribe won’t know that there’s no true way to _stop_ Sho until it’s far too late.

Jet supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that Sho’s willing to take vengeance on his behalf. Sho’s said he’s willing to die to protect them. Protectiveness is a trait they all share, and Sho has the unique ability to see it through farther than anyone else ever could.

Sho makes a soft sound as Jet leans against his side. “You okay?”

Jet nods in response to the quiet question. “Just grateful, I guess,” He elaborates, a little louder to include Smellerbee and Longshot. “Today could’ve gone a lot worse.”

Sho hums in idle agreement, allowing Jet to remaining leaning against him for the time being. He’s becoming steadily more familiar to the touch; the more Jet does so for reminders and thankfulness.

Smellerbee stretches her legs across Jet’s, her back against Longshot’s non-dominant arm, a careful sprawl of relaxation that could still quickly be undone in case of conflict. There isn’t much for them to do on a ship anyway, if all goes according to Hakoda’s plan.

Rather than backtracking north or splitting up his forces to cut through the mountains, the chief had elected to take the path through the much closer Great Divide. On the other side, there’s a trading village port where they’ll be able to acquire updated information from an Earth Army contact, keep the fleet together, and be able to maneuver closer to Pohuai Stronghold as necessary. 

It means more risk of encountering a warship closer to Fire native waters, but that’s potentially another aspect of the plan. After all, there’s no information more current than straight from the source, especially a ship leaving from their target stronghold. The Tribe has been waging naval warfare for years and still survived in number for this long, so Jet believes in the possibility of success if it comes to that. Getting any closer to Pohuai will depend on what they learn from either port or warship.

Sho hadn’t made any remarks for or against attacking a warship of his people, and no one had asked twice for him to declare his loyalty. He’d allowed Hakoda to keep his more detailed map and the stack of inked visions to pore over further, but had refrained from explaining the Southern Raiders.

Hakoda could read it off Sho’s notes on his own and draw his conclusions from there, if he doesn’t already know. As much as he’s owed vengeance for his murdered wife, Hakoda should focus on his children first. They don’t need further distractions. It’ll take long enough to get through the Great Divide, never mind how long it’s already potentially been since Aang’s capture. 

The best case scenario is still that this is all a waste of time, that the Avatar and Hakoda’s children are safe up in the North Pole. Relying on faith alone hasn’t gotten anyone anywhere.

“Are we…” Sho pauses to yawn, subtly expanding under Jet’s shoulder. “Arranging a watch?”

“I don’t think we need one. Unless you think we can’t trust Hakoda’s word of safe passage?” Jet answers with a question of his own.

“I think he’ll honor it,” Sho murmurs. “He has more important things to be worrying about than us.”

Jet had thought as much, too. Even if all the men don’t agree with this alliance, he doubts any would directly go against their chief. From what he’s seen so far of the Southern Water Tribe, they follow some code of honor. Murdering four teens in their sleep probably goes against that code.

“Budge over then,” Smellerbee demands, shifting around and climbing with bony knees over Jet’s legs, and then Sho’s to cram in on their fourth’s right side. “Do the warm thing.”

Sho gives Jet an amused, commiserating look for their trampled legs before he obeys. He inhales deeply, pressing into Jet’s side, and he exhales long and slow. A bubble of warmth follows, and Smellerbee sighs with satisfaction. 

It is rather drafty out on the deck with the wind coming off the water and canyon walls. Jet’s not sure whether it’s the size of the boat or the locale that’s made the difference, but neither he nor Smellerbee have felt seasick since they boarded the ship earlier in the day.

Longshot shifts closer to Jet in Smellerbee’s absence to share in the warmth, flipping the blanket over more of their legs.

As Sho continues to breathe warmth into the evening air, it occurs to Jet that they’ve been practicing getting used to Sho firebending practically since the start. The only difference is the visible presence of flames. Jet muses on this even as he comfortably crosses his arms and slouches more against the curved wood of the stern.

Sho has definitely been restraining himself from flashy bending for their sakes, but all his subtle heating tricks have been training them towards acceptance as well. Jet doubts that Sho would be that deliberately manipulative. It’s more likely that Sho’s used to warming up his meals and body on his own, and since they knew he was a firebender from the start, he saw no reason to hide any of the flameless uses of his bending. 

They’ve certainly benefited from those habits, and as Smellerbee just proved, even grown comfortable enough to request it. Jet supposes that in time, they’ll even grow accustomed to Sho’s visible firebending. He’ll just have to wait and see, while asking Sho to keep practicing.

“Hey,” Jet remarks softly, nudging that little bit closer to their fourth. “Can you show me your fire again?”

“Demanding today, huh?” Sho replies, gently teasing, and then more serious. “It’ll be close like this. You sure?”

“Show me,” Jet insists, shifting to give Sho enough room to lift his arm forward, and then settling into the gap left behind.

Their firebender doesn’t ask twice, extending his hand out away from their bodies. A flicker of red wavers to life over his palm, hidden from the rest of the ship by his field of fingers, and fed slowly into orange without growing much bigger. Jet doesn’t push to see yellow. 

He merely watches the little flame dance harmlessly, matches his breathing to Sho’s steady warmth, and wills his mind to accept that Sho bending is safe yet again. He feels Longshot’s calm at his side, and looking across Sho’s body reveals that Smellerbee’s sleepy gaze reflects the dancing light.

It helps to realize that they still have this progress, and haven’t regressed due to the violently yellow flare. It matters that Jet’s pulse beats slow and steady, with a bender holding fire right at his side.

-

[Jet](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/post/644793541646860288/messing-around-learning-to-color-in-procreate) dreams of fire, and wakes in a confusing, tangled mess of dead-limbs and sore joints. He feels the over-warmth of extra bodies, feels the subtle sway of wood underneath him, and for a moment he’s _home._ Then he hears the water, the sounds of adults conversing, and he rudely remembers how everything has changed. Jet blinks his eyes open and takes stock.

The sky is vastly blue, darker in front of him and paling as he tilts his head back further. If he could see any farther, the eastern horizon behind them is probably yellowed with sunrise. The canyon walls cast long, cool shadows, but their sandstone heads glow golden bright; the first to meet the dawn.

Equals only to Sho, who meets Jet’s eyes next- already awake, as predicted- with the sun itself in his irises.

“Morning,” Sho greets him quietly, still here, tangled with Smellerbee’s limbs and now less of Jet’s as he sits up.

Jet slows to still as Longshot slides further against him at the slight movement. Longshot’s breathing hitches faintly, then settles as he manages to sleep on undisturbed. Jet doesn’t want to wake him.

Sho is fondly amused when Jet looks to him twice. “We’re trapped,” He laments in a melodramatic whisper and Jet smiles immediately in response.

The crick in his neck, the needling-numbness of waking limbs, and the soreness of his back are all ill rewards for unadvisedly falling asleep in such uncoordinated fashion. Jet would welcome many more mornings exactly like this one.

Trusting the Tribe to keep their word obviously worked out, which means Jet really can set aside his anxiety for Hakoda’s judgment until it’s actually delivered. 

Sho brushes loose hair out of his face and carefully wipes his bad eye clear of grit. Given the lack of injuries via bad wakeup call, it’s clear that Sho hadn’t reacted poorly to waking up in a pile. It’s fortunate, considering it’d been wholly unintentional to fall asleep like this the night before. 

Jet knocks their feet together to check. “You sleep okay?”

Sho hums affirmation, pulling his braid forward over his shoulder. “It was confusing waking up at first,” He offers further freely, still keeping a soft tone to let the others sleep that little bit longer. “But I think it helped some, too. I haven’t fallen asleep with anyone like this before. It was easier to remember, like this.”

The explanation implies that Sho normally has to take time in the mornings to recall his current circumstances. Considering how Jet just woke up, he understands, though it’d been the opposite sort of issue for himself. Sho’s never had this before. Jet had been missing it.

“Sounds good to me,” He offers with honest, quiet happiness. “I hadn’t pegged you as a cuddler, but I knew you had a soft side in there somewhere.”

Sho rolls his eyes good naturedly at the gentle teasing. “See if I cuddle _you_ again.”

“ _I_ won’t touch either of you ever again if you don’t shut up,” Smellerbee threatens grumpily, buried somewhere under the blanket by Sho’s hip.

“Sorry, Bee,” Sho apologizes in a whisper again, brushing his hand over the top of her messy hair peeking out.

Jet is very fond of them both in that moment. He subsides to companionable silence, turning his eyes back to the lightening sky absent of cloud cover. 

Hakoda had said it wouldn’t take more than two days to sail through the entirety of the Great Divide, and Jet’s only option was to trust the estimate of an experienced sailor. In fact, his squad’s usefulness is next to nothing for the time being. None of them know how to sail a Water Tribe ship, and it’s not a unique skill to ask after rumors once they get to the trading village port. They likely wouldn’t be able to provide much aid in overtaking a warship either.

The only reason they’re still here at all is that the information on Pohuai is still unconfirmed, though messenger birds were sent out yesterday to allies. If the Avatar and Hakoda’s kids _are_ being held captive, only then will Sho’s knowledge on the Fire Nation be requested further. Privately, Jet also thinks that none of the Tribesmen have any true talent at stealth. Subterfuge and sabotage, but not the ability to steal unseen and unheard into a stronghold.

Less than a week out of fleeing Ba Sing Se, and it’s still the worst cosmic joke Jet has ever heard that their impending destination is an enemy stronghold. How strange to think that some miles south of here is the red forest that Jet and his fighters lived in for the past eight years. A few hours more, and Jet will be farther west than he’s ever been in his life. He’ll be that much closer to the Fire Nation.

Jet can’t imagine it’s anything more than a poor idea to surround himself with Fire Nationals. Too much risk, for his squad and his own state of mind to go that far, into the colonies or the core islands- never mind whatever else lurks in Sho’s past.

Where does that leave their part in the war? After and _if_ the Avatar needs saving, what then? 

They’d be out of place and needlessly underfoot remaining with the fleet, so where to next? Finding a resistance cell somewhere near the colonies? Retreating back east into the Earth Kingdom? How can Jet keep his squad safe, but also utilize their skill to help others? What’s the right answer? Perhaps there is none, and the only thing to be done is find a compromise, one day at a time.

It’s not Jet’s decision to make alone regardless. He’s stressing needlessly and far too early still. 

At least his kids have the chance to sleep in to their leisure, and Sho got to discover that he won’t wake in a panic if someone’s sleeping pressed against him (if they fell asleep that way). Jet’s mostly comfortable, supporting Longshot and sitting side by side with Sho, and Smellerbee within reach. He’ll have to get up to relieve himself soon enough, but it can wait for a while longer.

It’s early enough that Jet hasn’t seen any Tribesmen but in passing, and none have wandered back to see them for whatever reason. Would they be offered food? They have enough supplies if not, or to refuse the obligation. The Tribe’s supplies are an unknown question, and Jet would be mindful of feeding extra mouths on a ship too, if that’s the case.

“What’re you thinking about?” Sho whispers, mindful of Smellerbee’s earlier threat.

“Breakfast,” Jet admits, also in a whisper, rather than delve into all that came before this most recent thought.

“The bags are closer to you,” Sho points out, understandably taking Jet’s response at face value.

Jet probably could reach, but he doesn’t want to disturb Longshot just yet. Food can wait.

“You wanna spar later?” Sho offers after the absence of movement.

Jet immediately nods. He’s rusty from time in the city and he wants the rush of combat again more than he’s wary about the Tribe’s reaction. As long as they stay out of the way and make it clear that it’s just a friendly spar, there shouldn’t be a problem.

Sho grins at his ready agreement, like maybe he’s missed the fight just as much. Jet could stand to be more confident in thinking Sho’s the same as him. He has enough evidence by now to believe it as true, and even find comfort in it.

“We should go bare hand,” Sho continues, knocking his head back gently but pointedly against the wood. “Less space, and we don’t want to scare anyone.”

It’s a fair, smart compromise, so Jet has no issue agreeing again. He’s no slouch when it comes to an old fashioned fist fight, but it’s not his greatest strength to be weaponless. Sho’s probably going to kick his ass with those palm strikes of his. Maybe practicing without swords will help Jet finally learn to better defend against them.

“I’d bet you any of the chores when I win, but you wouldn’t know what to do without me anymore,” Sho taunts, and Jet has to pull his lips in between his teeth to keep from barking laughter.

It’s probably true that he’s gotten used to hot food, hot water for dishes and laundry, and clothes that dry much sooner than on the line.

“You say that as if it’s not your fault we’re spoiled,” Jet teases, knocking their feet together again. “I don’t remember ever asking for your magic hands.”

“Lucky you then, that I’m so generous,” Sho sniffs imperiously, only to instantly ruin the act by freezing in caution when Smellerbee shifts against his side.

Jet shoves his knuckles against his mouth, struggling not to shake Longshot awake with his smothered laughter. 

Neither of their sleepers ends up waking after a pregnant pause, leaving the awake teens to stare at each other helplessly.

It becomes even harder not to laugh when Sho covers his twitching lips under a hand, also straining not to make sound or move too obviously. Jet has to squeeze his eyes shut not to look at him, to avoid breaking first over something that’s not even _that_ funny.

It’s the best start to a day that he can imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever have to laugh when you’re trying not to & suddenly every little thing is that much funnier?? I _love_ that shit.
> 
> **Edit:** _WE HAVE[FANART](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/post/644793541646860288/messing-around-learning-to-color-in-procreate) NOW!!!! I REPEAT, WE HAVE FANART NOW!!!!!_ A spectacularly GORGEOUS piece by the amazingly talented [portraitoftheoddity,](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/) [Lena7142](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lena7142/profile) that I treasure beyond belief, of the ending scene of this chapter ;A; it is so unbelievably soft and I am _blessed_. Pls go give it all the love it deserves ;A;


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya’ll are too nice ;A; there are a bunch of you who now comment on every chapter update, & I appreciate each and every one of you <333
> 
> This is my favorite chapter yet, so I really hope you guys enjoy this one in particular >:3 I'm so excited to finally post it~~!!!
> 
>  **Edit:** _WE HAVE[FANART](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/post/644793541646860288/messing-around-learning-to-color-in-procreate) NOW!!!! I REPEAT, WE HAVE FANART NOW!!!!!_ A spectacularly GORGEOUS piece by the amazingly talented [portraitoftheoddity,](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/) [Lena7142](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lena7142/profile) that I treasure beyond belief, of the ending of ch11. It is immeasurably _soft_ and I am forever going to have So Many **feelings** about it ;A; pls pls PLS go shower it with the love it deserves

They have an audience again. It’s bizarrely similar to the last uneasy alliance they’d had, in spite of all the obvious differences between the Si Wong and the Water Tribes. The wood, sails, glaring sunlight off sand, and the watchful eyes are all the same. 

The biggest change is mostly internal, in that Jet’s not particularly trying to show off for political clout. It doesn’t matter as much what the Water Tribe knows him capable of, because Jet’s given his word not to inflict further harm upon their people. His word may not have been taken, but he’ll still keep it for his own sake.

It’s a good thing they’d warned Bato ahead of time that it’s just practice, because if Jet didn’t know better, he’d think Sho was trying to kill him.

Sho’s bare hand style is some mangled, brutally effective mix of martial training and moves that wouldn’t be out of place in a riot. It’s not exactly _dirty_ , per say, but it’s clear that Sho’s aim is to knock down his opponent fast in a way that makes them _stay_ down. 

“You’re unreal,” Jet complains, knees aching from how many times Sho pulled back his full strength from kicking out Jet’s legs. He can all too easily imagine the damage Sho could do without that friendly-minded restraint, never mind with chi.

“Breaking the enemy’s root is the most important part of a fight,” Sho reminds Jet in his lecture tone. “I know _you_ know that.”

Jet does, from his own past experience as well as from their previous spars. His hook swords are particularly good at tripping up and twisting ankles.

“I _meant_ is there anything you’re _not_ good at in a fight?” He asks, without much bitterness at all, but a tiny bit still. Even Sho’s limited depth perception for long range isn’t that much of a weakness when he can just throw fire at the problem.

Sho pauses to actually think about it, which is partly an answer by itself. 

Jet gladly takes the break to bend and stretch the various new aches in his legs. His kneecaps throb with his pulse and his shins are assuredly littered with bruises. At least his ribs were finally spared a beating, because he _did_ learn to block and deflect Sho’s palm-heel strikes without the distraction of handling swords.

They’d avoided getting into the grappling side of a brawl by unspoken agreement at the start, lest wrists be grabbed or held in compromising situations.

Sho starts to finally answer, seems to realize whatever he’d meant to say isn’t true, and closes his mouth to resume thinking.

“I give,” Jet sighs, growing more amused than exasperated. “Bee, Shot, your turn with the monster.”

Smellerbee hops up immediately to trade places with Jet, slapping his hand on the way past.

Jet sprawls on the deck boards next to Longshot, only mostly exaggerating his weariness. He can better hear the low murmuring of the Water Tribe spectators, but tunes his ears to the fast paced slap and thud of blows connecting rather than eavesdrop out of paranoia. His eyes are shaded by the ship railing, but that won’t last for much longer as the sun approaches noon.

“Stop punching for my dick!” Sho protests in loud affront, startling Jet into maniacal laughter.

“It’s your fault for having one!” Smellerbee cheekily retorts.

“It is _not!”_ Sho squawks, and Longshot laughs silently beside Jet as well.

Still snickering, Jet sits up to watch Smellerbee essentially chase Sho across the deck, because he has to keep dodging her low aiming jabs. He’d fare better if he just grabbed her, but he’s sticking to the unspoken rule and keeps slapping her hands away instead. 

As ever, Smellerbee uses her size to her advantage, remaining low and quick. She likely learned from Jet’s misfortune that she needs to prevent Sho from kicking, and so far she’s successful. She has the advantage at close combat, thanks to familiarity with her daggers, forcing Sho onto the defensive.

It’s so clear to Jet that she’s winning, and that it’s still just a friendly spar, so he’s completely unprepared for a Tribesman to abruptly intervene.

Maybe the man hadn’t known it was merely practice, since Smellerbee had backed Sho away from the other spectators and unwittingly towards the door that leads below deck and into the cabin. Maybe the man hadn’t intended to stop them at all, and was only trying to keep a wayward limb from hitting him as he emerged onto the deck. Whatever the truth, the warrior makes the grave mistake of grabbing Sho’s wrist from behind.

“Don’t-!” Smellerbee yelps, but even her immediate reaction isn’t quick enough to prevent Sho from twisting about with an animalistic snarl.

“Let go!” Jet shouts, already lunging to his feet and sprinting to close the gap before anyone else. “Back up!”

He hadn’t meant Smellerbee and she doesn’t listen to him anyway, jumping to catch Sho’s elbow with both hands before Jet can possibly make it there himself. She probably saves the startled Tribesman from a world of hurt with that captured arm, as Sho jerks in place at being stopped mid-motion.

Jet makes it there, jamming himself in between Sho and the mistaken threat, protecting them both with his body. 

“Sho, it’s okay!” He says, deliberately loud and ignoring the thud and pounding footfalls behind him, holding his hands open and aloft. “Look at me; it’s Jet, and Smellerbee.”

Sho recoils, sudden fright overtaking the abrupt fury, stumbling backwards into Smellerbee, who adjusts by releasing his arm and latching onto his waist instead.

“It’s okay,” Jet repeats, possibly lying because he’s hyperaware that they’re surrounded by men tense for battle. “You didn’t hurt anyone, and no one’s going to hurt us.”

Sho gulps in air, gasping as he noticeably snaps back to the present, one arm instinctually falling to encircle Smellerbee’s shoulders. He still looks scared even as he grabs the front of Jet’s shirt to yank him forward.

“Don’t _do_ that,” He whispers harshly as Jet fiercely hugs him opposite Smellerbee’s hold. “I could’ve hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” Jet reassures, too relieved to be worried about anything else for the time being. “We got you. You’re okay.”

Sho exhales shakily, dropping his head onto Jet’s shoulder. Jet gladly gives him the moment of reprieve, covering the back of Sho’s head with one hand.

The morning had been going so well, too.

Someone clears their throat behind Jet, and Sho flinches faintly. Jet squeezes him a little harder in reassurance, and reluctantly lets go in order to salvage the situation.

Hakoda meets his eyes evenly, still inside the cabin because of course, they’re blocking the door. Jet doesn’t see the man who’d grabbed Sho behind the chief, but there’s a line of Water Tribe blue peering out all the same.

“What happened?” Hakoda asks calmly.

“Someone grabbed Sho’s wrist from behind. Bad idea,” Jet answers with only facts. His heart’s only just starting to slow.

“We were sparring and got too close to the door,” Smellerbee adds, her tone both contrite and cross in between words.

Hakoda takes in their responses and then takes a deliberate step forwards, slow.

Jet obligingly backs up and to the side, consciously keeping himself between the majority of the Tribe and his squad. He can tell without looking that Longshot has joined the other two, and Longshot’s bow isn’t with the bags anymore. At least one of them is armed if this goes poorly.

Hakoda steps out into the sun proper, looking around his onlooking crew, possibly for injuries. He won’t find any. Even the man who’d inadvertently provoked Sho had escaped without a mark thanks to Smellerbee’s quick action. Their word to the chief hasn’t been broken, albeit by a narrow margin.

“It was accidental, and a thoughtless reaction to a perceived threat,” Bato surprisingly comes to their defense, having been in a position to oversee everything. “No harm was meant or given.”

Something about the formality of his words prompts Jet to glance in the tall man’s direction. His usually stern expression has softened with understanding, a realization that fills Jet with relief that Bato won’t blame Sho for being triggered, but also dread of what possible restrictions will be imposed now that it’s known.

It’s not Sho’s fault. Who grabs someone from behind in the middle of a clear spar? It was just bad circumstantial timing.

Hakoda inclines his chin with acknowledgment of his second. “Then it seems there’s no cause for alarm. Back to work, those who are _meant_ to be working,” He says, sweeping his stare over his crew once more. The chief nods to Bato, then Jet, and then retreats back inside the ship cabin.

Just like that? That was it?

“I need to sit down,” Sho confesses hoarsely, and Jet entirely forgets about Hakoda’s lack of punishment to spin about.

Sho’s already halfway down, supported by Smellerbee and Longshot on each side. Longshot’s bow is set aside carefully, unnecessary for now.

“Shit, you okay?” Jet worries, kneeling down as Sho drags his legs into lotus position.

Sho’s kept from answering immediately by Smellerbee clambering into his lap, wrapping herself around him, chest to chest, with her arms and ankles linked behind his back. Sho hugs her back tightly. He’s shaking, Jet realizes in alarm, which is why Smellerbee put herself in a position to be comforting.

“It was bad enough someone grabbed me like that and _you idiots_ got in the way when I wasn’t thinking straight,” Sho mutters into Smellerbee’s hair, just loud enough for Jet and Longshot to hear him. “But then I thought the chief was going to punish us because of what I’d almost done, and all I could think about was my father.”

Jet can’t help but glance at Longshot in helpless dismay at this response. Longshot loops his hand into Sho’s elbow to solemnly make his support felt.

“Agni, that sucked,” Sho heaves a labored sigh, relaxing some from squeezing Smellerbee so tightly.

Jet reaches and takes one of Sho’s hands off Smellerbee’s back to squeeze. Sho clutches back harder and his breathing deepens purposefully.

“Your dad was a real shithead then, huh?” Jet murmurs, sitting properly. He’s pretty confident that after Hakoda and Bato spoke up as they had, no one will approach them for some time. There’s no threat, and it’s as private as it’s going to get without moving to a corner somewhere.

Sho pulls his face out of Smellerbee’s hair to scoff. “That’s an understatement. You remember when you asked me about my face?”

Jet freezes in sickened realization. Smellerbee stiffens against Sho, and even Longshot reacts with an audible inhale of horror.

“Your _dad_ ki- did that to you?” Jet corrects himself hastily, chilled shock swiftly melting to a burning anger.

Sho’s answering smile is all bitter, brittle, sharp edges and no humor to speak of.

“By the time I wanted to get back at him, it was too late. I was too far to go back. He got what he deserved anyway,” He says, like a dam has suddenly exploded and he has to get this all out at once.

“I heard that my mother took my sister and fled after the funeral. There’s a warrant out for her arrest, but in the two years it took me to get out of the Fire Nation, I never heard that she’d been found. My father’s without a wife or heirs. He’s worthless!”

Sho laughs harshly, with a cruel edge of near deranged glee to lay out his father’s just deserts. They’re all holding onto him so tightly, listening, that he’ll probably have bruises. Sho hardly seems to notice.

“He used to punish me for every little mistake. I used to think it was my fault, but then I was on the streets, and I saw how other fathers treated their kids. He was wrong. I didn’t deserve what he did to me. I never deserved _any of it!”_

The final part of the last sentence bursts out of him in a raspy scream, but just as quickly as the fury crested, Sho collapses back in on himself.

“I didn’t deserve any of this. I didn’t do anything _wrong.”_

Smellerbee is already squeezing Sho fit to fracture something, so the best Jet can do is list forwards and press his forehead to Sho’s over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” The apology is choked out of his strangled throat. His eyes burn at the despair that spilled messily out of Sho, while shame uses his heart for kindling at his part in adding onto Sho’s misery.

“I’m so sorry, Sho. You’re right. You didn’t deserve it.”

Sho makes a wordless, wild, wounded noise and yanks his hand free of Jet’s grip. He clutches the back of Jet’s head, pressing them firmer together. It feels like both gratitude and undeserved absolution to a horrifically late apology.

It’s all Jet can do to grasp onto Sho’s arm and swallow back a tide of further belated regret. He should’ve done this so much sooner. He’d let himself think it was forgiven and forgotten. The scar on Sho’s throat will never truly heal. Jet owes him so much in return.

Longshot’s careful, steady hand lands on Jet’s back, offering comfort whether Jet deserves it or not. Its mirror is no doubt on Sho’s back as well.

They must look a sight: a pile of kids all twisted together in messy emotions. It’s a grace that no one intrudes, even after Sho had screamed his desolation for everyone to hear. Who knew what the Tribe must be thinking, witnessing all this on top of the near-accident that’d preceded it.

Jet only sits back when Sho lets him go. He rests his weight on his heels and wipes his eyes briskly, erasing what little wetness that’d leaked through. This is so far about him that Ba Sing Se’s walls couldn’t contain the metaphorical distance. 

“I want to kill your piece of shit dad,” Smellerbee informs them, muffled but deadly intent into Sho’s chest.

He blinks wearily and lightly touches the top of her head. “It’s far, and I don’t want him to hurt you, but I won’t stop you if you ever get the chance.”

It’s a weak attempt at a joke. Sho might not realize that Smellerbee’s one hundred percent serious in her statement. Jet decides not to clarify the matter. Enough has been shed already without forcing Sho to drag out further details about his birth family. It can wait.

Jet shifts his weight onto his hip, straightening out his legs. His knees have just reminded him of the recent abuse he’d put them through. Kneeling for long minutes hadn’t helped. He only regrets the physical ache.

“Sorry,” Sho abruptly offers an apology of his own, quiet. “I didn’t mean… That was kind of embarrassing, I guess.”

“Don’t apologize,” Smellerbee beats Jet to it by one second. “It’s not your fault.”

“Sounded like you needed to get it out, too,” Jet adds.

“I guess,” Sho allows sheepishly, self-conscious after what he’s revealed. “I haven’t really told anyone before. All of it, anyway. It’s hard to explain without the never- uh, you know.”

Jet hums his understanding. He can imagine how Sho’s curse would be hard to believe without proof, and obviously Sho wouldn’t (normally) want to stick around with anyone who’d proved he doesn’t stay dead, so why would he ever bother explaining everything? Even _they’ve_ only got pieces of a shattered collection.

Having kept so many terrible things bottled up for so long, it’s little wonder why Sho bursts at times. Unlucky circumstances led to a trigger, and even before Sho could get over that brief fright of nearly hurting someone, he’d been immediately reminded of worse, traumatic memories of his murdering father. Of course he’d snap, and then when given the opportunity, vent to someone he trusts who’d understand the context. It makes perfect sense, yet Sho still feels the need to apologize whenever his cracks show wider than his whole.

“You can talk more, if you want,” Jet has to tell him, just so that Sho knows he has the option at least. “We’ll listen, if it helps.” His offer does succeed in pulling a tiny, genuine smile onto Sho’s lips.

“Thanks. I may take you up on that later. Maybe I won’t freak out and then rant so much next time.”

Sho startles slightly as Longshot leans in to make the shake of his head abundantly clear.

“Wh-uh… oh,” He realizes, reading Longshot’s intent expression. “I guess you- No, you’re right. I’ll work on it. Thanks, Shot.”

Satisfied, Longshot sits back.

Jet heartily agrees. The less Sho disparages what he can’t control or reasonably contain, the less he’ll apologize needlessly. Longshot is particularly good at giving insightful advice to help others feel better about themselves.

“Let’s have lunch,” Smellerbee declares, finally pushing away from Sho’s front. “You’ll feel better having something to do.”

Sho smiles again at her confident statement. It’s assuredly true. He doesn’t wince as Smellerbee climbs off him. He does hold out his hands though.

“Help me up? My legs are numb.”

Jet stands to oblige. He takes one hand, and Longshot takes the other. Together, they lift Sho back onto his feet, and steady him when he wavers.

-

“Meet back at the ship in two hours, and watch your pockets,” Hakoda instructs his crew on the pier. “This is a freer market than most.”

“He means pirates,” Sho mutters for their ears alone, somewhat redundantly.

Jet may not be as well traveled, but he recognizes hard-living gazes as he returns them. This port doesn’t seem to hold any nationality beyond the individual or small groups- shades of green, blue, and red all mingling and hawking wares the same ways, and there’s glinting steel on almost every belt and frowns on most faces.

Hakoda has a contact here from the Earth army, which leaves his crew resupplying and asking for word at the market. Technically, there’s no reason for Jet’s squad to leave the ships, but they’re not going to stay behind either.

Jet wants the freedom of movement and decision-making again, separate from two days on a boat where he had no control over the direction taken.

“Have you been here before?” Smellerbee asks Sho, her eyes wary on the faces that turn to watch them walk past, further into town.

“Once, briefly,” Sho replies, staring straight ahead. “I was just passing through, going south. No one should remember me for anything.”

Jet had nearly forgotten that might’ve been a concern here. It seems Sho got lucky at least once, slipping through such a shady area unharmed. Aside from some curiosity though, it doesn’t particularly matter when Sho came through this port. They have a different objective here.

Jet doubts they’re going to get many straight answers from a rough crowd like this. At least, not without parting with enough money; money that’d be better kept for supplies. Jet could speak in the language best accepted in company like this, but he doesn’t want to bring trouble back onto the fleet. He has to behave.

Hakoda’s the one who’s going to get the most relevant information, that hopefully being Fire Nation ship movements. It’ll be more useful than rumors the merchants might’ve heard about a mythical figure from a hundred years ago. It wouldn’t really help to know if Aang _had_ been through here anyway, not without knowing where he is _now._ The other Tribesmen will get that information if it exists, so what can _they_ do?

Due to the surprising happenstance of meeting the fleet so soon after leaving Ba Sing Se, their current supplies are still holding up aplenty, which marks shopping off the potential options. Sho would be the one doing the bargaining anyway.

Jet really dislikes this useless, directionless feeling. 

They’re just sort of wandering down the streets, keeping their eyes and ears open, but not stopping to ask questions either. No one’s paying them particular attention beyond passing acknowledgment. It seems they blend in here better than the Water Tribe. Jet’s unclear on whether that’s a good thing, exactly.

He notices a hanging sign on one of the larger wooden buildings, closer to the high plateau where the village’s administration presumably lives. An inn is a good place to meet travelers who might be more willing to discuss rumors without asking for a fee in return. 

Jet signals wordlessly to his squad, receiving attention thrice over before he leads the way over, and then inside.

It’s a simple establishment, clean floors and furniture that doesn’t look like it’s about to fall apart at least. There’s a particularly large group of people wearing a myriad of layered pastels occupying half the room. Many of them wear the same tired look of refugees that had grown so familiar on the way to and then inside Ba Sing Se’s Lower Ring.

What other town has been burned?

Jet shares a look with his fighters to casually disperse, and then wears his best smile.

“Excuse me, I hope I’m not disturbing you, but could I ask you something?” He asks, approaching a table of older men. The elderly so like to gossip freely, scarcely without even needing to be invited first. It had been quite the ordeal back in the city at times.

“Of course, young man.” The elder man in shades of blue, gap toothed with an odd hat, welcomes Jet to an empty chair. “In fact, Aunt Wu predicted that I’d have a conversation with an interesting traveler today.”

Jet almost falters in befuddlement, but smoothly takes the offered seat. “Predicted?”

The odd man nods sagely. “Aunt Wu is a gifted fortune-teller from our village. She is never wrong. Why, without her warning, we never would’ve evacuated in time.”

“Evacuated?” Jet echoes, not needing to force his curiosity and sympathy. “From the Fire Nation?”

“Oh no,” The other man denies, looking as though he’d been forced to bathe recently and is very unhappy about it, going by the way he keeps sullenly plucking at his wet hair. “Mount Makapu erupted. Buried the whole town under lava, you see.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Jet offers, surprised. That’s a far more literal definition of burned than even he was expecting.

“Thank you, but don’t fret,” The first man cheerfully says. “Aunt Wu knows the way to safety. She’s upstairs with her assistants, if you’d like a reading, young man. In fact, given what she told me, I feel as though I should insist.”

“What _did_ she tell you, exactly?” Jet asks in return, stalling. He reminds himself to keep an open mind about this fortune-teller, considering how the Avatar, Sho, and spirit-visions have all happened within the past two months.

The man in blue puts a hand to his goatee in thoughtful recollection. “She said I would know you by your bearing- a young warrior between places, but carrying his home alongside him.”

Jet tries not to frown too obviously. It’s technically, if whimsically correct, but also vague enough that it could fit any number of people passing through this port.

“That could be me,” He allows graciously for the sake of peacekeeping. “Do you think, uh, Aunt Wu could predict the future of someone she’s never met?”

If this woman is legitimate, her prediction has the potential to be more useful than mere rumors.

“Indirectly, I’m sure,” The second man in pastel orange answers, picking at his nails. “If the paths intersect with the one she’s reading. Aunt Wu is never wrong.”

The elder in blue nods in profound, calm agreement.

Jet, who recently learned to dislike repetitions of absolute statements, decides to wrap up the conversation. “Have you heard anything about the Avatar?”

“Nothing but hogwash,” The grumpier man immediately returns. “Aunt Wu would’ve predicted something as grand as the Avatar’s return.”

“But you’ve heard _something_ ,” Jet firmly insists, unwilling to let his question get sidelined by a cultish mindset.

The calm man smiles genially. “There were apparently sightings of an airbender and his sky bison at a port north of here. We passed through on the way, but it was some time before our arrival, I’d heard. The Avatar saved the life of a fisherman.”

Well, it’s confirmation of Aang’s passage north, but otherwise unhelpful on when it’d been exactly and where he is now. 

Still, Jet nods his gratitude as he stands. “Thank you for the conversation, gentlemen.”

“Our pleasure. Don’t forget to visit Aunt Wu now,” The elder returns contentedly.

Jet smile politely, promises nothing, and makes his escape.

Smellerbee’s still in conversation with a twittering couple, so Jet makes his way to where the silent Longshot and the unconversational Sho stand along the far wall, keeping eyes on things.

“Aang was sighted north of here in a harbor town a while ago,” He reports his findings to them. “Ever hear of Makapu?”

Sho nods. “It’s northwest of here, a village at the base of a dormant volcano, which is why they share the name.”

“Was,” Jet corrects grimly. “The volcano erupted, buried the village. It’s where all these people came from, apparently following the warning of a fortune-teller by the name of Aunt Wu.”

“It erupted?” Sho repeats, sharper than Jet’s expecting.

“Yeah? What’s-?” Jet stops, remembering now. “Volcano. Your vision. You saw it erupt?”

“Technically, I saw _two_ erupt,” Sho mutters, as if displeased to find another connection to his spirit-vision. “But Makapu’s not Fire Nation, so that probably accounts for one of them.”

“But why? I asked, and they’d only heard of Aang as a rumor after they’d already fled Makapu. He wasn’t there,” Jet says, frustrated.

Longshot steps off the wall to get their attention. He holds up one finger on each hand, drawing separate lines in the air that then converge. He’s implying that the connection is still there.

“You think… because _we’re_ chasing Aang, we were meant to encounter the Makapu villagers here?” Sho gathers, confused. “How does that-?”

“The fortune-teller,” Jet realizes. “The guy made it sound like she was expecting me to be here. What if she’s actually for real?”

“Are we talking about Aunt Wu?” Smellerbee asks, joining them. “Because if we are, I think she _is_. That chick told me to give this to you.”

Now thoroughly bewildered, Sho takes what Smellerbee gives him, holding it in the flat of his palm so they can all see.

“That’s the flower,” Jet points out the now obvious, dimly stunned. “Isn’t it?”

Sho nods, clearly gobsmacked by the apparent proof of Longshot’s theory of converging points by another piece of his vision. It looks like a game piece, painted with a white lotus of exactly eight petals.

“I guess we’re going upstairs to talk to Aunt Wu then,” Jet concludes, shaking his head in resigned bafflement.

This spirit-intervention is getting out of hand now. If they hadn’t met the Southern Water Tribe fleet, they wouldn’t have been this far south to cross paths with the Makapu refugees. They could’ve just as easily never walked into this inn at all.

Jet mentally raises his hands in surrender to the universe. It can stop with the browbeating now, Jet’s firmly a believer from here on out. He’ll follow along with the signs without overthinking them. So much for feeling directionless _or_ in control.

Sho sighs, closing his fingers around the lotus tile. “I guess so.”

Longshot pats his shoulder bracingly.

Jet glances around the room to find the stairs, heading off towards them first once he has. He really hopes this will be as helpful as the spirits seem to think. 

At the top of the stairs, there’s a man standing in the hall outside one of the doors. He has a head of white hair despite looking middle aged, and is wearing a black robe with white lining.

“Aunt Wu is expecting you,” He tells them calmly, opening the door without needing to be told anything at all.

Jet can’t honestly say he appreciates it. Still, he walks forward, glad for his squad following him closely.

Inside the room, an older woman is sat at the table, being attended to by a young girl in a pink kimono. The woman, presumably Aunt Wu, is wearing a gown of expensive marigold, with tsavorite studded jewelry and a copper headpiece of a circle and crescent. She looks both a rich old lady and what Jet assumes a person of her supposed profession would look like. 

Jet decides to be respectful, given the circumstances he hopes she’ll be able to clarify.

“Aunt Wu, I presume.” He offers her a similar quarter bow that he’s seen Sho give to the Water Tribe. “We’ve spoken with your-” customers? followers? “-neighbors, and heard you may have been expecting us.”

“Ah, indeed.” Aunt Wu appears pleased to receive them. “Meng, dear, the cushions please.”

The girl in pink hurries to do as she’s asked, placing four seats on the floor for their guests.

“Thank you, dear. You may go downstairs for the time being,” Aunt Wu bids, changing her seat to face the cushions arrayed before her.

Meng departs with bustle in her step, and the man outside closes the door.

“Please sit and we may begin,” Aunt Wu invites them. “I usually do my readings individually, but I feel that won’t be necessary here.”

Jet shrugs and takes a seat on one of the center cushions. She’s not wrong. They’d tell each other their fortunes even if they had bothered with receiving them separately, at least where it concerned their current quest.

Sho takes the left most cushion, putting his bad side to the wall and keeping the rest of them on his right. Longshot sits between him and Jet, and Smellerbee takes the final cushion to Jet’s right.

Sho reaches out and puts the lotus tile on the floor in front of Aunt Wu. “You told someone to give this to me?” He starts, a reasonable place as any. 

“I did, not that I knew it would be _you,_ per say,” Aunt Wu agrees, holding her hands inside her wide sleeves. “A friend to a young lady, as I recall.”

“Yeah, okay,” Smellerbee impatiently says. “But it was still _for_ him. How’d you know he’d recognize it?”

“Because that was what the readings told me would be necessary for today,” Aunt Wu patiently explains. “Rather than discuss the _how_ of my gift, as it would be quite the lengthy tale, shall I tell you of your fortunes?”

It sounds a little like a cop out to Jet, but they _are_ on a time limit at port here.

“Alright,” He concedes. “How do we do this?”

“I’m afraid due to the necessities of travel, my preferred method is no longer possible,” Aunt Wu begins regretfully, shifting around to rummage through a bag just behind her. “But there are still reliable alternatives. I feel the casting of lots will suit your needs best.”

She withdraws a finely bound book, and then sorts out three copper coins from a pouch.

“Toss these six times,” Aunt Wu instructs Jet as she hands him the coins. “Heads are worth three, tails are two. Keep track of the odd or even numbers.”

Jet suddenly feels as though Sho sprung an arithmetic problem on him. He tries not to question how this is going to predict his future. He just listens to the woman and gives the copper pieces the first toss.

One head, two tails: that’s seven, and odd. He’s supposed to do this five more times?

“Seven,” Smellerbee pipes up helpfully, holding up one finger on her left hand.

Jet’s grateful that she’s going to help him keep track. He picks the coins up and drops them for a second time. Three heads.

“Nine,” Smellerbee reports aloud, holding up a second finger on the same hand.

The third toss earns two heads, and one tail: even.

“Eight.” Smellerbee’s right hand gains one upright finger.

Fourth- “Eight.”

Fifth- “Seven.”

Jet’s final roll lands on another one head and two tails.

“Seven,” Smellerbee concludes, with four fingers held up on her left hand, and only two on her right. 

Jet spares her another grateful look, and then turns to Aunt Wu for her verdict. The fortune-teller is murmuring lowly under her breath as she consults her book.

“Ah,” She says, evidently finding the correct page after a moment of flipping pages. “You are twenty-eight: excessive pressure, with a change in the second line. Hold onto that, will you?”

“Uh, sure?” Jet can only agree, baffled. Twenty-eight? Excessive pressure? Second line? Is that supposed to mean something?

Aunt Wu has mercy on him. “Your fate is intrinsically tied to your companions. Once I have their lots, I will see the complete story. Only then can I truly give you what you seek.”

Jet just nods rather than waste time questioning the lady.

“Guess I’ll go next.” Smellerbee shrugs, picking up the coins and tossing them.

Jet returns the favor and helps keep track of the six rolls, ending up with three 7s, two 8s, and one 6 (albeit not in that order).

“You are sixty-three: after completion, with a change in the fourth line,” Aunt Wu declares, and Smellerbee mumbles it to herself to remember.

Longshot goes next, managing to get 7s four times in a row, then nine, and lastly eight.

“You are ten: treading carefully, with a change in the fifth line.”

Longshot nods solemnly.

Finally, Sho takes his turn with the coins. He rolls three tails, and then three heads. An eight follows, then two 7s, and a final eight.

Aunt Wu seems both startled, and startlingly empathetic. “You are forty-seven: oppression, with changes in the first and second lines.”

Sho nods stiffly, and Jet struggles not to be immensely annoyed at the fortune-teller. Random chance had picked that outcome, but it still sounds shockingly unfair.

A period of quiet follows as Aunt Wu reviews her book, asking for reminders of their ‘lines’ where seemingly necessary. Jet’s not particularly comforted by the way her expression steadily becomes more concerned as their supposed story becomes clear to her eyes. At last, Aunt Wu closes her book and sets it aside on the table.

“You four share a fate of immense conflict against a tremendous force,” Aunt Wu starts grandly, but still frustratingly vague. “You must take great care, but you will find great aid in a vast variety of allies from unexpected origins.”

She’s not saying anything that Jet doesn’t already know, or hasn’t already happened, but he curls his fingers in restraint and tells himself to wait. If she can get as specific as passing on a lotus tile through the right hands, then there must be a chance she’ll possess vital information.

Aunt Wu looks then to Longshot. 

“Your restraint will soon be rewarded. Be cautious, but resolute. Your friends rely on your level head. Do not let them stumble blindly among sleeping moose-lions. When the time comes, when your past and future collide, your choice will be clear. Do not hesitate. You are not at fault.”

It’s still vague advice and nonsense references to Jet, but Longshot seemingly hears differently. He appears discomfited by Aunt Wu’s verdict, but his nod is filled with conviction.

The fortune-teller looks next to Sho. “You have suffered beyond compare,” She begins with the utmost care, but Sho still tenses at once. 

“And I’m afraid that your trials are still far from over. Take heart- you have found your anchor. Also know this: your silence has aided you well, but there is a time to speak. Trust in your friends. Sunrise is not your only beginning. Hope can still be found in the west. You will know the masks as they appear to you.”

Sho bows his head to her words, and this time, Jet’s doubts on Aunt Wu’s sight are struck silent. Longshot quietly takes Sho’s hand in sympathetic comfort.

Jet feels a measure of dread as he meets Aunt Wu’s storm-gray gaze.

“You are a cause of great strife, and of greater resolution. The world’s imbalance is overwhelming, and it is not solely your place to right it. Choose your pursuits wisely, and then act decisively. Your friends will temper you, so every fiber of your being is not frayed or consumed. You are a lodestone. Change encircles you. What you seek most can also be found where the sun sets.”

He grapples with her judgment, feeling both shamefully seen yet hopeful of his path. It’s still too vague for true comfort, but Jet admits to feeling more secure. He sets aside further contemplation of implications as Aunt Wu turns last to Smellerbee.

“You best see the ending of your journey. Hold fast to it. When your friends feel aimless, you know the way. Know that there is never an actual ending, however, but merely a balance maintained. Remain vigilant, and dismantle problems before they take root. You will know your home by what you’d thought to have forgotten.”

Smellerbee straightens her shoulders with determined responsibility.

“As for your present quarry,” Aunt Wu next tells them all, briefly closing her eyes in thought. “You are on the right path. He is moving, but your allies have his scent.”

Finally, Jet can’t help but think, _that_ sounds like confirmation of the Avatar. At the same time, however, the distinction between their ‘present quarry’ and what Jet seemingly ‘seeks most’ is curious. Is Aunt Wu implying that Jet needs to find something more important than the Avatar? He shelves the thought for later as unimportant.

“Fear not, young ones.” Aunt Wu smiles warmly. “Cruelty is not a permanent fixture in any life. You are not alone in this, or in any fight. Aid is even where you least suspect it.”

“Thank you for your wisdom, Aunt Wu,” Sho expresses, his raspy voice quiet as he bows both surprisingly low and formal, forehead nearly touching the floor.

Jet’s never seen anything like it.

“You are quite welcome,” Aunt Wu returns. “I wish you all the safest journey. One last thing.” She turns back to her bag, withdrawing a scroll of paper tied with a navy blue ribbon. “Give this to the one who is both wolf and ocean.”

Jet accepts the message, figuring that she must mean Chief Hakoda, if not any of the Water Tribe. He resolves not to be nosy, tucking the scroll beneath his tunic for safekeeping.

Fortunes received and their next heading evidently acquired by the ones doing the sailing, he climbs to his feet without feeling the need to demand further specifics. Aunt Wu _is_ legitimate, and she’s given them enough to think about. The most important thing is getting back to the ships, to both hear and deliver hopefully pertinent information.

Jet hesitates, and then also respectfully bows to Aunt Wu in silent gratitude.

“I hope you find your new home safely, too,” Smellerbee offers in parting.

“Thank you, dear. I’ll be just fine,” Aunt Wu assures, and Jet believes her confidence.

If meeting Aunt Wu actually had been the spirits’ intention here, then they accomplished at least one good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *points extra hard at the AU-canon divergence tag* 
> 
> Aunt Wu’s method of divination is based off of I Ching, particularly the three coin method.  
> Longshot #10 [Treading Carefully](https://divination.com/iching/lookup/10-2/) \+ Line 5 Change  
> Jet #28 [Excessive Pressure](https://divination.com/iching/lookup/28-2/) \+ Line 2 Change  
> Zuko-Sho #47 [Oppression](https://divination.com/iching/lookup/47-2/) \+ Line 1 & 2 Change  
> Smellerbee #63 After Completion [After Completion](https://divination.com/iching/lookup/63-2/) \+ Line 4 Change
> 
> I had to go and choose a complicated method instead of flubbing it with palmistry, but I ended up being extremely satisfied once I had these results. Definitely go and read those summaries in the links. It’ll be very insightful ;D 
> 
> Plus I hope ya’ll enjoyed these big clues to the world's state >:3  
> Once again, character tags will be updated by the next chap to avoid spoiling the encounter.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once more for anyone who might’ve missed it, WE HAVE [FANART](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/post/644793541646860288/messing-around-learning-to-color-in-procreate) NOW!!!! by [portraitoftheoddity,](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/) [Lena7142](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lena7142/profile) of the sunrise ending scene of ch11 that I eternally continue to marvel over.
> 
> Also WOW the hit count jumped up QUICK from 2k to 3k just from the past two chapters. That’s actually so impressive, thank you all <3
> 
> Again credit to [MuffinLance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24322483) for WT names.

“This is for you.” Jet offers Aunt Wu’s scroll to Bato upon their arrival back to the correct ship. “Or the chief. I figured you’d see it as much as he would.”

Bato takes the message with a measure of confusion. “We do share many matters of counsel. Who is this from?”

“A woman named Aunt Wu,” Jet replies, deciding to keep matters simple so he’s not defending mysticism unnecessarily. “She just asked me to deliver it. That’s all I know about it.”

He has hopes and suspicions, but without confirmation of Aunt Wu’s message, there’s no point to sharing them. Jet makes the conscious choice to walk away and not linger awkwardly in the hopes of learning the letter’s contents. It could have nothing to do with the Avatar at all, since Aunt Wu had implied that someone already has a heading on Aang. It’s not necessarily Jet’s business otherwise. He’ll learn with the rest of the crew if and when the chief decides to share.

It’s still within the two hour mark, so it doesn’t seem like many of the Tribe are back yet. Depending on the information Hakoda returns with, he may decide to set sail as soon as possible. With Aunt Wu’s prediction of their present quarry on the move, Jet has a bad idea that they’ll be sailing west rather than north.

If Aang had escaped, would Aunt Wu have phrased herself differently? Jet needs to stop thinking about the possibilities and just wait for the answer.

He sits with his squad back at the stern, unsurprised to see his fighters still in their thoughts as well. He reclines on the deck, folding his hands under his head and staring up at how the sky darkens in late afternoon.

 _“What you seek most can also be found where the sun sets,”_ Aunt Wu had said. She’d given Jet’s fortune after Sho’s, where she’d first mentioned the west holding answers. Jet’s assuming that’s what she meant, because it’s impossible to find where the sun sets. The horizon can never be reached. West of here only lies the Fire Nation.

It makes sense that Sho will find answers in his homeland, but what could possibly be there for Jet? What _does_ he seek most in the first place? End the war, keep his kids safe. How does it connect?

Going by the other three fortunes he’d heard, Jet won’t know until it happens. What part of Longshot’s past will force him into a choice? What do masks have to do with what Sho will find? What will Smellerbee remember to know her home?

The rest of Aunt Wu’s words had sounded more like general advice than predictions, however astute they’d been. Reminders of their pasts and how they’ve changed so far. An encouragement to continue changing. Keeping the right mindset could be as important as getting specific details.

Jet’s glad he hadn’t asked for such. He doesn’t want to live his life following a set of instructions. Being guided by spiritual intervention feels confining enough. 

He glances over when Sho lays down flat next to him, though he keeps his knees bent and feet flat on the deck boards. Jet remembers then that, of the four of them, Sho’s fortune had been the least positive. His stomach twists with unease. 

What more is there left for him to suffer? How is that fair?

It’s selfishly for his own comfort that has Jet reaching out. Sho’s hand twitches in surprise at first brush, but then twists to lock fingers with Jet. Sho gives Jet a sideways smile, always _trying_ , and all Jet wants is for him to be safe. He tells himself that Sho’s not alone anymore. Anything that wants to hurt him has more opposition to get through.

“What’re you thinking? Your face is all…” Sho asks, exaggerating a pinched frown that definitely doesn’t resemble Jet’s face at all. 

Jet appreciates the light-hearted attempt though, so he tries to respond in kind. “Just wondering if we should’ve paid Aunt Wu. How much do you think that would’ve cost?”

Sho seems to think about it, turning his face towards the sky. “With four of us? Maybe something like… Actually, why don’t you tell me? Say she asked for 28 copper from each of us. How much is that?”

Jet swears under his breath. He’d sort of invited that onto himself. “Do I have to?”

“We should’ve been practicing more. You’ll forget otherwise,” Sho points out, like the irritating smart person that he sometimes actually is.

Jet huffs and disentangles their hands to cross his arms over his chest, pretending to ignore how Sho laughs softly at him. A little painful arithmetic is worth that sound. 

“Correct, but don’t tell Jet,” Sho says then, which means Longshot already gave the answer and Jet missed it. Traitors, the both of them.

Jet mumbles numbers under his breath, keeping in mind that the numbers must equal to money in the answer. Multiplication is faster than long addition, but he still struggles with the reminder of carrying the number to the next row, especially mentally. 

28 x 4 = 112, which means-

“One silver, twelve copper,” Jet answers, waiting.

“Correct,” Sho affirms, subtly pleased and Jet grins reflexively. “If an apple is worth 7 copper, and the tax is 2 copper, how much are forty apples worth?”

Jet groans. “I hate you, for the record.”

“You’ll live,” Sho assures dismissively, rolling his head in the other direction. “Bee, what’s 78 divided by 2?” 

He gives her an easier problem without money and taxes involved, but Smellerbee still sighs reluctantly as she works on her own problem. Jet tunes out her murmuring and works out his.

7 x 40 = 280, two silver forty copper. 2 x 40 = 80 copper. 280 + 80 = 360.

“Three silver, sixty copper,” Jet finally answers.

“Correct,” Sho confirms, just as Smellerbee gives her own answer.

“Twen- no. Thirty-nine?”

“Correct,” Sho chirps again. “You too, Shot,” He adds, because of course Longshot would’ve been answering for their problems as well. “You guys want a tough one?”

Jet puffs air up towards his bangs. “No, but lay it on us anyway.”

“What he said,” Smellerbee mutters, and Sho snickers at them both, plus however Longshot responded.

“You each have 5 gold. Apples are worth 2 silver, 1 copper. Oranges are worth 4 silver, 2 copper. Tax is 10 copper for each. How much of each fruit can you afford separately, and combined?”

“Fuck,” Smellerbee instantly swears and Jet very much agrees. He sits up to see Longshot is also stumped, but already deep in thought. 

“Split up the work?” Jet proposes, receiving two quick nods. “Let’s cover the apples first.”

Sho watches them struggle even with the cooperation and step by step solutions, amused like an evil mastermind.

“Wait, are we getting both?” Smellerbee asks at one point, right after they’ve finally finished puzzling out how many apples can be afforded with 5 gold. “Like, five gold for apples _and_ oranges?”

“Sure. Try to get an equal number of apples and oranges,” Sho agrees cheerfully and Jet instantly glances at Smellerbee in disappointment.

She cringes. “Sorry?”

They first get the number of oranges that can max be afforded with 5 gold, and then subtract from there, juggling numbers trying to get a roughly even amount of apples and oranges. 

“What’re you kids-”

“Shh!” Jet hisses, flapping a hand next to his ear like trying to swat away the voice like a gnat before he loses grasp of the numbers entirely. He’s never wished so hard for ink and paper in his life.

“They’re practicing arithmetic,” Sho answers for them, still lying down but speaking up to the Tribesman who wandered over to the back of the ship. “Did you need something?”

“Shh,” Smellerbee scolds their fourth, poking him in the side, earning a raspy noise and a little squirming.

“No, I suppose not,” The voice answers, dryly amused.

Jet glances up briefly, recognizing one of the older crewmen but not sparing the thought towards recalling the name at the moment. He refocuses, helping Longshot keep track of the flux of copper and silver as oranges are subtracted and apples added.

“Expensive fruit,” Their unwarranted spectator comments.

“It’s just an example,” Sho explains. “Though, what is the tax for this area, do you know?”

Jet covers his ears to block out the reply, lest the extra number screws up his count any. He waits a moment for the danger to pass, and then drops his hands. 

After getting a roughly split amount of apples and oranges with 5 gold, it’s relatively simple in comparison to add the numbers together twice more to account for 15 gold.

“Correct,” Sho tells them warmly once they’ve given him their final answers.

Jet raises his fists in hard won triumph as Smellerbee groans in relief and flops over. Longshot remains poised still, but rubs at his temples in alternating circles with each hand’s fingers. 

It’s a good thing that fruit really aren’t that expensive and that there’ll never be a reason to buy so much in bulk anyway. Outside of Ba Sing Se, buying _anything_ in bulk is an improbability regardless. Surplus rarely exists out here. Some of those city folk had definitely never realized how good they had it.

“Any news?” Jet asks the lingering Tribesman since the opportunity is there. Personally, he’s a little surprised that the man stuck around for this long, as if he wanted a conversation with them.

They haven’t had much interaction with anyone other than Bato and Hakoda, and that’s largely by design. Staying out from underfoot just makes the most sense, and it’s not as if they’ve made much of a good impression the past two days. 

Jet doesn’t want the glowering, mistrustful looks, but the current absence of them makes him almost as suspicious, if only because he’s done nothing yet to earn any leniency. 

Whatever his feelings on the matter, the man answers genially enough. “Some rumors about a couple kids causing a ruckus a few months back. It matches Katara and Sokka’s descriptions, and an airbender who _flew_ them out of here.”

They _had_ been here? Months ago though, which could mean it’d either been before or after they’d met the freedom fighters. The rumors really only further confirm that Jet had been telling the truth about Katara and Sokka accompanying the Avatar.

“Sounds about right,” Smellerbee comments, not real mean or anything, but matter of fact.

The warrior nods along, and still doesn’t leave. Now, Jet’s wariness starts to feel possibly warranted.

“Do you need something?” He asks pointedly, uncaring if the dark looks return so long as they make sense.

Rather than getting defensive or self-righteous, however, the man only looks awkwardly apologetic. 

“I guess there’s no way to transition into this, but I think you’re good kids,” He says, gaining all their attention at this sudden declaration. “Rough around the edges and done some bad things maybe, but who hasn’t nowadays? You’re trying to do some good now, and that’s what matters.”

Jet supposes he should be feeling more relieved than weirded out, but how is he supposed to reply to that?

“Chief Hakoda is a good man. Fair,” The Tribesman continues, likely in direct response to the befuddled expressions they’re surely giving him for his sudden commentary. “Whatever he decides, it won’t be to harm any of you. You’re just children.”

None of them have been children or _just_ anything for a very long time, but Jet doesn’t point this out. It’d be pointlessly contradictory when the man’s just trying to be reassuring.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Sho says, fishing for one now because he definitely hasn’t asked before.

“Kustaa,” The man generously supplies, smiling like he’s wise to the word choice but letting it pass uncontested. “I’m the healer on this boat, if anything happens while you’re traveling with us.”

Good to know, Jet supposes, but that still doesn’t explain much about this random bout of friendly assurance. Sho does relax a little, so at least that makes a difference.

Jet doesn’t remember ever seeing a professional healer. His parents had cleaned every scrape he’d had in the first eight years of his life, and then he was the one usually doing the cleaning of injuries for the next eight. His crash course had involved a lot of messy stitches and stolen alcohol. He’d lost kids to infection. There’d never been enough medicine, and the Fire Nation patrols didn’t carry nearly enough burn salve. 

A thought occurs to Jet- an opportunity.

“Could you show me some things?” He asks Kustaa. “I know how to stitch and keep a wound clean, but not much else.”

“Then I’d say you’ve got the most important basics covered. I’d be glad to show you a few finer things,” Kustaa agrees with a somewhat surprising ease. “When would you like to get started?”

“Would you mind now?” Jet returns, because it’ll be more useful than sitting around waiting for Hakoda’s news and less painful than more of Sho’s quizzes. 

“I wouldn’t. Is anyone else coming? My books are inside,” Kustaa mentions this deliberately, likely having noticed their aversion to going inside the ship cabin or below deck.

Jet immediately looks to his squad. Sho rolls his head side to side from where he’s still lying flat on his back, having not budged an inch for all of Kustaa’s conversation. Jet had expected as much from him, just for caution’s sake. Smellerbee makes her choice by shifting around next to Sho’s left side and getting comfortable there, her expression plainly uninterested. Longshot answers by climbing to his feet.

Four really is a good number to have.

“Just us,” Jet informs Kustaa as he also stands up. 

“Alright,” The healer acknowledges, Water Tribe blue eyes flicking between all four of them with curious interest. “Follow me.”

“Have fun,” Smellerbee calls, and Sho waves a jaunty hand when Jet glances down at the pair. He smirks at them and follows Kustaa with Longshot at his right hand.

-

In the middle of Jet memorizing the names, uses, and shapes of Earth Kingdom plants, particularly those used in burn salves and to treat infection, another Tribesman ducks into the healer’s room. It’s one of the younger crewmates, who seems more surprised than offended that Jet’s in with their healer.

“Oh, uh, hey. Kustaa, the chief just got back and called a meeting. He’s on the pier.”

“Thank you, Toklo,” Kustaa replies from where he’s been teaching Longshot how best to suture a wound, much more efficiently than Jet’s rougher method. “We’ll be right out.”

Jet doesn’t mind being answered for when it’s true. He reluctantly returns Kustaa’s book to the shelf with all the rest. Depending on the chief’s news, he probably won’t have time to return and study more. That information could have saved so many of his kids… but he’ll just have to make do with what he’s learned now.

He and Longshot follow the healer back out onto the deck, deviating to where the other half of their squad stand by the railing overlooking the pier. 

“We miss anything?” Jet asks, mirroring Sho’s cross-arm lean over the ship’s side.

“A few more rumors of who was seen, but it all sounded the same,” Sho reports, his bright eyes just as wary as the blue eyes that keep glancing up towards their squad as the odd ones out.

“So nothing new or important yet,” Jet concludes, and Smellerbee hums idle agreement. 

He recognizes Ranalok and Tuluk among the gathered group, as well as Bato at Hakoda’s side on the pier. Kustaa has joined the group, and there are two other men that Jet doesn’t have names for, presumably from the other ships. He also spies what he believes to be Aunt Wu’s message passing between hands, which reassures him that it does have to do with the Avatar.

Jet’s a little surprised then when Hakoda turns towards the ship and, after laying eyes on where they stand, lifts a hand to gesture for them to join the conference.

“Jet, Sho, if you would join us,” The chief calls up to them, not really like a request.

Said teens share a look at being singled out, although Hakoda’s technically not wrong that they do sort of share a leadership role between the four of them. The chief probably just wants to update them on the plan of action since he’s not strictly responsible for them.

Jet still looks to Smellerbee and Longshot first. “You two wanna come down with us or keep an eye out from up here?”

Longshot taps the railing decisively, making his choice clear.

“I’ll stay up here, watch his back,” Smellerbee adds on.

“If one person mentions me being _blessed_ again, I’m walking into the ocean,” Sho mutters as he pushes off the railing and heads towards the gangplank.

Jet shakes his head fondly and follows.

“Thank you,” Hakoda says, welcoming them into the circle on the pier. “My contact here has confirmed what you’ve told us. The Fire Nation did capture the Avatar at Pohuai Stronghold some weeks ago, and have been bragging about it ever since.”

Even fully expecting it at this point, Jet’s heart still drops a little in his chest. Damn.

“Reports confirm that my children were with him,” Hakoda continues, his expression suitably grim. “Sokka was captured in one of the attempts to rescue the Avatar. Katara, however, has remained with a resistance cell in the area, along with the Avatar’s bison.”

Bad news, worse news, and slightly good news. Jet merely continues listening and doesn’t offer any condolences.

“Bato tells me a woman gave you this message,” Hakoda says, lifting a half furled note in indication. “It confirms the most recent report that the Avatar is being moved from Pohuai, and is headed towards the Fire Nation as we speak. It appears that the spirits have blessed us, given our current position to intercept the transport.”

Sho shifts his weight and Jet suddenly has to fight to keep a straight face, because reacting as if anything is funny right now would be wildly inappropriate. 

“Unfortunately, it’s unconfirmed whether Sokka is being moved as well. It’s possible he’ll be moved elsewhere on a separate transport, or will remain at the stronghold,” Hakoda continues further. “The Avatar must be the fleet’s priority. We’re the only ones nearby who can catch a ship in open water, but I will not abandon my children either.”

The chief half turns to lay a hand on his second’s shoulder. “Bato will lead a separate mission north, to join up with the resistance cell and Katara. The Earth army scouts here have promised an escort. I would prefer if you four joined this mission. My men cannot afford any distractions in the coming battle.”

Jet doesn’t appreciate being thought of as a distraction (a liability) but again, Hakoda isn’t wrong. His squad can’t be caught in the middle of a grand scale naval battle, with no experience on boarding enemy warships or defending wooden boats from firebending. What’s worse, three of them aren’t strong swimmers. Being stranded out in the sea to drown can _not_ happen.

“Understood. We’re better off on the ground anyway,” Jet replies, and Sho nods at his side.

Hakoda allows himself to look relieved. “I’m glad to hear that. A rendezvous has yet to be determined. Once it has, we will-!”

He cuts off, startled as Sho very abruptly and swiftly lunges for him. _Everyone_ is startled, Jet arguably most of all. There’s no reason for Sho to aggressively instigate contact, not unless-

“Son of wolves, father of wolves,” Sho says, freezing Jet’s thoughts of an unexpected trigger and halting the warriors’ hands grabbing for weapons. He sounds eerie, formal, fluid, and not like Sho _at all._ He’s gripping onto Hakoda’s forearm so tightly that his nails are drawing blood.

Hakoda cautiously lifts his free hand without looking away from Sho, wordlessly telling his warriors to stand down from their defensive postures. “I’m listening,” He says with an odd tone of his own, and Jet has to duck around to see Sho’s face.

It is Sho’s face, but wearing an expression that he’s never made. Worst of all is Sho’s eyes. They’re not amber-gold anymore, but an uncomfortably murky, shifting blue-gray of cloud cover bleeding across his irises and sclera. He’s been openly possessed, and Jet hates it.

“This imbalance must not be kept,” Sho intones, a spirit using his voice to pass on its message. “Time grows short. Failure is not possible.”

It comes across sounding more like a threat than an assurance of victory. 

Despite the bloody furrows being dug into his arm, Hakoda gives no indication of being in pain. His Tribesmen ring the encounter with varying levels of tension, taken aback by the abrupt display of spiritual intervention rather than a firebender seemingly attacking their chief.

Jet wants to rip Sho and Hakoda apart, and then somehow rip the spirit out of Sho. He can’t. He’s useless; nothing but another spectator to this absolute ostrich-horse shit. He can only wait until the spirit has had its way.

“Fēng fills your sails, La under your hulls smooth,” The spirit possessing Jet’s friend continues. “Tui’s shroud, Agni blind, the deep will not take for one night. Be swift. Heed Fēng when Her child is safe. She knows the path next.”

“I understand,” Hakoda says, his voice reverent. 

The ugly, eerie quality of Sho’s cloudy eyes starts to disperse. Jet has a split second to feel relief, and then Sho rips away from Hakoda as swiftly as he’d lunged forward. He recoils into Tuluk and jerks away again, gasping for air and growing steadily more panicked.

“Back up, BACK UP!” Jet hollers the instant he realizes the problem, giving a few shoves to the bodies closest to him for good measure and nearly sending Kustaa into the water.

Hakoda strongarms the few warriors closest to him back and by then everyone’s got the picture, backing up willingly and quickly to give the panicked firebender some space.

“Sho, hey hey hey,” Jet tries, but also keeps his distance. He whistles birdsong, the lilting notes for ‘safe’. “Sho, it’s Jet. Look at me.” Another whistle: safe.

Sho thankfully focuses on him after the second whistle. He stares at Jet, chest heaving and terror stark on his face, fingers hooked like claws into his shirt like he meant to rip something out and only got part of the way there. 

“Breathe, Sho,” Jet coaxes, edging forwards just a single foot. 

“Don’t touch me,” Sho instantly gasps out, his voice thin and reedy as he nonetheless tries to gulp down deeper breaths; to slow down.

“I won’t,” Jet swiftly promises, his hands still held out to show his open palms, so Sho can track his progress without fear. “Tell me what you need, Sho. What do you need?”

“Out,” Sho says instantly, sucking in air and then exhaling a thin stream of steam that startles everyone once more. “Away from town. I need space. I need to bend.”

“He can’t do-”

“Okay,” Jet says simply, loudly over the protesting voice. “Go. Longshot will shadow you from a distance, so you’re safe.” He turns sharply to Hakoda. “You planning on leaving in a half hour?”

“No,” Hakoda immediately denies, thankfully catching on quick. “We’ll still be here.”

Jet looks back to Sho, who’s swiftly losing the terror and progressing into that unsettling fury. “Sho, _go.”_

Sho looks at him one last time- some faint thing of near buried gratitude- and then he’s wheeling away and sprinting past the Tribesmen. He goes east, along the coastline and towards the tree line past the rows of wooden buildings.

Jet spins back towards the Water Tribe ship at nearly the same time, jerking a hand in a sharp circle over his head while whistling the cue to ‘keep your distance’. He points after Sho, and Longshot neatly vaults over the side of the ship with his bow in hand. The archer passes Jet and the Tribesmen in silence, running after their firebender.

Jet still has eyes on the both of them when one of the unknown men protests again.

“Hakoda, he can’t be left alone like that, _firebending._ He’ll draw attention. He could kill someone!”

“You saw him as well as I did, Aake,” Hakoda tells the warrior before Jet can whip a scathing remark in that direction. “Being spirit-touched is a heavy burden to bear. Allow him to take care of himself as he needs.”

Aake (evidently) frowns but does not contest the point further.

Jet glances down at movement, finding Smellerbee has joined him on the pier so that their squad remains safely in pairs. Her eyes are full of concerns and questions that Jet doesn’t know all the answers to.

“Jet.”

He looks up again to the chief, dimly grateful to the man for his steadfast calm.

“The fleet will remain here for the next hour, at most,” Hakoda informs them, distractedly allowing Kustaa to inspect the streaks of blood left on his forearm from Sho’s spirit-possessed grip. “The army has forces that will join us, and Bato needs to pick who will be joining him and gather supplies. What do you need from us?”

Jet thinks quickly. “I need Sho’s map and pictures back. We have our own supplies. We can set a rendezvous with Bato if Sho and Longshot aren’t back in a half hour.”

Hakoda nods. “Speaking of, the rendezvous for you all to rejoin the fleet will be determined at a later date. Bato will be kept informed by messenger bird.”

So that’s what he meant to say before a spirit butted in. Jet tempers down his own building frustration as he nods to show he understands. There’s not much more to be said beyond that, given that Jet and his fighters will now be going separate directions from the fleet. 

“I will take your word now, Jet, that no further harm will come to my children by your hand,” Hakoda says then, surprising Jet with the suddenness of the gesture. 

Jet straightens, although he understands the expectation here. He’s aware that this likely isn’t a trust earned, but a necessary risk undertaken. Hakoda can’t be present to see his children again, so he’s trusting his second with the task of their rescue and hoping that Jet will be as good as his word in providing aid to that goal. 

“I swear it,” Jet promises once more. 

Hakoda stares at him searchingly for a moment longer, and then he turns to his second. “Bato, if you’ll return the papers to Jet and start preparing for what you’ll need on the mission.”

Bato briefly grips his chief’s shoulder and then gestures for Jet and Smellerbee to follow him up the gangplank. They do so quietly, side by side. They wait outside the cabin as Bato ducks inside to retrieve the map and Sho’s inked visions that Hakoda had borrowed.

“What happened?” Smellerbee demands as soon as it’s private.

“A fucking spirit possessed Sho to pass on a message,” Jet informs her bitterly. “It freaked him out. He needed space to bend. I sent Longshot after him to keep an eye on things from a safe distance.”

Smellerbee’s mouth twists. She doesn’t blaspheme like Jet, but she’s definitely not happy to hear about the possession either. 

Jet sighs in frustration, rubbing tension out of his forehead. He’s probably inviting ill luck cursing the intervening spirit like that, but he’s genuinely pissed off on Sho’s behalf. The visions were invasive enough. A blatant possession like what had just happened? It’s too far. It’s not natural, and it’s wholly unwelcome. It’s another thing Sho doesn’t deserve.

But when have any of them ever had a choice in the matter?

“What did it say?” Smellerbee asks. “The spirit?”

Jet thinks back, the details already fading because he’d been more worried about Sho than the spirit’s message. “The Great Spirits want the Avatar rescued,” He summarizes, hoping that’s about right, if utterly _insane_ to think about. “Apparently time’s running out.”

“Until what?” Smellerbee wonders and Jet can only shrug in response, because that’s the big question, isn’t it?

Until Aang is beyond help, within Fire Nation borders? Until the Fire Nation wins the war? Until there’s nothing in the fields but ash and corpses? 

For someone pushing an agenda, the spirits _really_ aren’t that clear on instruction. Too many ominous riddles and not nearly enough guarantees. 

Why even intervene _now?_ The past hundred years of war and slaughter? Just fine, no need to peek in among the mortals and maybe turn things around for the better. Oh, _now_ the Avatar being kept away from the world is a problem? By all means, everybody throw a hand into helping out.

It’s a crock full of **shit.**

Jet very much also wants to walk away and just vent his rage at something, but he needs to keep his head. Focus, he tells himself, one step at a time. Get the map and visions, get their bags, and get off the ship. Establish a rendezvous with Bato, and then go after Longshot and Sho. 

He can do it, because he must.

-

Jet whistles, a long and loud solitary note that’s less of a signal and more of a request. The extra pack’s strap digs into his palm as he listens for a response. The reply comes a short few moments after his whistle tapers off, and it’s not so far off.

Long practice and experience at tracking sound through the trees ensures that Jet heads in the right direction, regardless of the swiftly gathering dark. Carrying the other extra pack, Smellerbee keeps pace just behind him.

Jet checks in once more just to be sure, but he can tell they’re getting close by the scent of smoke. It’s nothing strong enough to be seen from a distance, but there’s no hiding that a lot of wood has been recently burned.

As could be expected, they find Longshot first. The archer climbs down from his sentry point to meet them on the ground.

“Everything okay?” Jet asks, checking Longshot over for himself. 

He has every confidence that Longshot played this smart and safe, keeping his distance aplenty from the bout of furious firebending. Nonetheless, despite that caution, it’s still witnessing something that’s too close to what stole homes and families from them; what they’d fought against nearly every raid. 

Longshot’s not physically been touched, but he knows that’s not what Jet’s really asking anyway. He’s alright, if a little unsettled by the amount of firebending he’d watched. He knows he was the best option to look after Sho from afar. Now that the firebending is done with, he’s more worried about how Sho has gone still and silent.

“I know,” Jet agrees quietly. “Bet you making dinner that he still apologizes for making you watch him, even though I’m the one who told you to.”

It’s maybe a poorly timed joke, especially when Jet’s the one who should probably apologize for not asking, but Longshot still hears the root of what Jet’s trying to say again. They’ll remind Sho that things outside his control don’t require apologies, especially when Sho did the right thing by going somewhere safe to vent without hurting anyone. 

Sometimes running away when things are too overwhelming isn’t a weakness. It’s something that Jet’s still learning to accept as well.

Longshot points without needing to be asked further, and then takes his pack from Smellerbee when she passes it over. 

Jet takes a bracing inhale before heading to where the smell of smoke is strongest. 

The worst of the scorch marks on the trees and grass appear relatively contained. It doesn’t seem like most of the flames were allowed to burn for long. Trust Sho to put out any fires he’d started even while in the middle of rage fueled bending. Maybe putting them out had been as cathartic as starting them; Jet doesn’t know. What he sees at the epicenter is more concerning in every case.

Sho’s sitting with his legs wrapped tight to his chest, a compressed bundle of limbs and wavering tension. He doesn’t appear hurt in any way, but in a similar case as Longshot, it’s not physical injury that’s the problem here.

Jet sets down Sho’s pack and then takes off his own. Sho most probably already knows they’re here. They hadn’t been overly quiet, since they’re deliberately not trying to sneak up on their fourth. That still doesn’t mean that Jet can approach thoughtlessly. 

He wets his lips and whistles a very soft version of the long note that he and Longshot had shared to locate each other. There’s no need to be loud, and this feels less invasive than speaking just yet.

Sho’s shoulders subtly lift, and then his reply is muffled into his arms: wavering, but present and correct. He’s here with them. 

“I don’t feel right,” He says then, just scarcely loud enough to be audible across the short distance that separates them. “I’m… it felt like falling inside my own skin and now I’m- I don’t _fit_ anymore.”

“…would touch help? Or make it worse, you think?” Jet offers carefully. What could anyone say to comfort someone after a spirit possession? To not feeling right in your own skin anymore?

“I don’t know,” Sho replies, but he does lift his face out of his knees. “You can come closer and try, I guess. I’m too tired to fight anymore.”

“Hm, I doubt that,” Jet tries, approaching on silent feet. “Give it a few minutes and I’m sure you’ll be back to kicking my ass about something. You always do.”

Sho snorts softly. His eyes are red rimmed- with tears? irritation from smoke?- when Jet sits down at his level. There’s not a trace of that storm cloud cover left in their golden color.

Jet offers a hand, just a single open palm invitation. Sho stares at it for a few seconds, and then unwinds one arm from his shins. He touches tentative fingers to Jet’s, a fine laced tremor that steadies as Sho establishes a firmer grip. 

“It helps,” Sho admits, unwrapping further and turning towards Jet in that realization. “There’s less room between my bones and skin than it feels like.”

Even the description alone makes Jet feel uncomfortable, so he’s profoundly glad that just offering his hand has helped soothe Sho even slightly. 

“Do you remember what was said?” He asks quietly, needing to know.

Sho pauses, holding Jet’s hand between both of his, pressing down to feel the tangible weight of flesh and bone from the both of them. “No, not really,” He answers haltingly. “There were… flashes. Things I wasn’t seeing. It was too hard to pay attention.”

Jet honestly can’t imagine. “The Great Spirits evidently really want the fleet to succeed at rescuing Aang,” He summarizes shortly for Sho’s benefit- and Longshot’s, within hearing distance. “They’ve apparently decided to finally get off their asses and do something for once.”

Sho’s grin is all crooked, bitter mirth. “Wish I hadn’t been forced to play mouthpiece, but it’s about time.” He lets go of Jet’s hand, flexing his fingers straight and then into fists, testing how they respond to him. He sighs and drops both into his lap.

“Bet the fleet loved to hear they’re spirit-blessed to succeed.”

Jet simply hums an affirmative noise. It’d spread like ferocious, fervent wildfire through the Southern Water Tribe before they’d left, that the mission is blessed by their patron Great Spirits Themselves, in addition to the Great Spirit of Air. 

Jet hadn’t known the Air Nomads even _had_ a patron spirit, but he supposes that’s what genocide will do to the world- erasing knowledge of even a Great Spirit in addition to an entire people and element of bending. 

Sho stretches out his legs, one at a time. He looks up past Jet. “You guys can come closer too. It’s okay. I’ll be alright.”

Smellerbee takes the explicit permission and almost quite literally runs with it. She drops down next to Sho’s right side and firmly takes his hand. 

Sho receives her with a wan but honest smile, one that falters into an apologetic look as soon as Longshot folds down into a kneel to Sho’s left. “I’m s-”

Jet grins broadly as Sho stutters into surprised silence, Longshot neatly intercepting the needless apology with a careful hug. Called it.

“Yeah, I know,” Sho mumbles, responding to the coded press of fingers that Longshot taps into his shoulder. “I still am. I know that must’ve been hard for you. Thanks for looking out for me.”

Longshot gently cups the back of Sho’s head in one hand, both giving and receiving. He releases Sho by inches, allowing his hands to carefully drag, until he’s sitting back on his heels.

Sho rubs his free hand over his bad side, sniffing exactly once. “I don’t want to talk about the spirits anymore. What’s the plan on where we’re going next?”

“We’ve got a rendezvous to meet up with Bato,” Jet gladly gives him the productive distraction. “A few other Tribesmen are tagging along, and an army scout to show us the way to the resistance cell and Katara. We can head there whenever you’re ready.”

“In a minute,” Sho hedges, seeming exhausted at the prospect. “Has the fleet left?”

“They were still getting prepared to when we left,” Smellerbee answers. “They might’ve left by now though. We’ve got all our stuff, and your map and visions back.”

Sho looks as if he completely forgot that Hakoda still had his stuff, and is both surprised and grateful that anyone remembered to get them back in his stead. He deserves more nice things if something as simple as that makes him this relieved. 

Jet nudges their knees together. “Whenever you’re ready, Sho.”

Sho breathes in deeply, an inhale that hitches at the very end just for the briefest moment, and then he exhales: long and with seemingly all his lung capacity. He starts to say something, and then looks at how his fingers still tremble when he holds them up.

“Maybe another minute,” He concedes quietly, and Longshot abducts that hand to hold before Sho can hide it away.

There’s time. They can wait as long as Sho needs. 

It’s been a damn long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya’ll I am not good at math, have mercy that I stuck to the simple route of 100 copper = 1 silver, 100 silver = 1 gold. Back to back math puzzles in subsequent chapters was a poor choice on my end x’D I had to simplify it after too many struggles. 
> 
> Fēng is the Great Spirit of Air in the series [no grave (hold my body)](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1426546) by [ZenzaNightwing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenzaNightwing/pseuds/ZenzaNightwing) [which I absolutely adore, for the record]. 
> 
> Reminder that Jet is an unreliable narrator & that how he views the WT is not necessarily how the WT views him.
> 
> And yes, from the end of ch11 to the end of this chapter, was all one day. It started out so well but then took one helluva rollercoaster ride.
> 
> As a final note, [portraitoftheoddity](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/) gave me a poke and I bamboozled myself into making a [playlist](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3DSufiK2vbdnWqIfLAmTPFXk8QhX6VjV) for Perpetual.
> 
> Actually, _one last thing:_ How am I doing on the tags? Is everything tagged appropriately? Pls let me know if you think smth should be included as a warning, bc there is a difference btwn withholding character tags to avoid spoilers & _actual_ warnings for mature (potentially triggering) content. It helps us all to keep things appropriately labeled in our content.


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